A Pocketful of Miracles
by Kaitlyn Fall
Summary: Co-written with Alicia Blade and Lillie Bell. A box of "miracles" is passed around on Christmas Eve, but each recipient gets more than they bargained for when it comes to their turn. Darien/Serena, Scott/Amy, Raye/Chad
1. Chapter 1

Hello all! Yes, I'm still alive, but I'm a full time teacher now, so writing has taken a bit of a backseat. However, while you're waiting for something new, I bring you a co-written holiday fic by myself, Alicia Blade, and Lillie Bell. This fic can also be found on Alicia's fanfic page.

For reference, Darien/Serena chapters are written by Alicia, Amy/Scott chapters are by myself, and Raye/Chad chapters are by Lillie.

* * *

Christmas 2009

Lyrics from "A Pocketful of Miracles" by Frank Sinatra.

A Pocketful of Miracles  
By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

_Practicality doesn't interest me.  
Love the life that I lead.  
I've got a pocketful of miracles,  
And with a pocketful of miracles,  
One little miracle a day is all I need._

Chapter One

"Hey, Darien, wake up! I need your opinion on these."

Sprawled out on the bench press machine, Darien opened his eyes and blinked groggily up at the iron dumbbell that hung over his brow. Tilting his head to the side, he saw Andrew hovering over him, his fists tucked into thick boxing gloves—one was neon pink and the other was black with yellow daisies. Darien squinted from the gloves to his friend, then braced himself against the dumbbell and pushed himself to sitting.

"Definitely the flowers. That shade of pink does horrible things to your complexion."

"They're for Lita," said Andrew, holding his hands in front of him. "I heard she's taking a kickboxing class, so I thought maybe she could use some new gloves. I think I like the pink ones best."

"Then by all means, get the pink ones."

"They just have a certain sense of irony about them that I like. Girly and kickass all at the same time."

"Right . . . can we leave now?"

"Although the flowered ones match her hair clip. You know the green bauble thing?" He twirled the flowered glove around his ear.

"Would you just pick one? We've been at this godforsaken mall all morning."

"Well if you would be a little more helpful with your opinions, this wouldn't be taking so long," Andrew said, reaching forward and bopping Darien on the nose with the pink glove.

Darien pulled himself off the bench. "My opinion is that Lita would be happy if you gave her a lump of coal."

"Yeah, okay, _but—_would she rather have a pink lump of coal or a black one with daisies?" He held up the gloves again, weighing them up and down on an invisible scale.

Rolling his eyes, Darien thwapped down the flowered gloves. "Get the pink ones."

"Good call. I'm going to go put these ones back."

"I'll wait for you out in the mall," said Darien, thrusting his hands into his pockets. Andrew wiggled his padded fingers goodbye as Darien trekked out of the crowded sports store, dodging flying Wiffle balls and children on rollerblades careening down the aisles.

The stores were packed on Christmas Eve and were only becoming more crowded as the day wore on. Every year, Darien swore he wouldn't get dragged out to the mall on this horrible day of excessive spending and desperate decisions, and yet every year Andrew managed to talk him into it, pleading for moral support.

Darien barely managed to escape from the sports store unscathed, but the mall's main corridor was no better, especially as Darien found himself standing right before the North Pole and Santa's Station—that sad Christmas tradition of long lines, greedy children, and overpriced Polaroid pictures. Darien leaned against one of the mall's marble pillars and folded his arms, watching as a little girl in a velvet dress was lifted off of Santa's lap and replaced with a little boy who tried to pull off St. Nick's fluffy white beard.

The beard stayed stubbornly in place though and, unhappy to be foiled in his mischief, the boy spent the rest of his time on Santa's lap pouting and refusing to speak.

Darien sighed and turned his attention to the people swarming past, laden down with shopping bags and boxes. He knew he should get a gift for Andrew, knowing that Andrew would have gotten him something, despite the fact that he'd told him a dozen times not to. He spotted a candy store across the way. Andrew's sweet tooth was almost as bad as his own, and it's not like picking out a box of chocolates would be particularly _inconvenient_ or anything, given that he was already right there.

He glanced back at the sports store and spotted Andrew waiting in a line about twenty people long. Satisfied that he had plenty of time, he squared his shoulders and darted toward the candy store.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Darien paused at a tug on his sleeve. Glancing down, he noticed a boy who couldn't have been more than ten years old dressed in a green elf outfit. Ears and all.

Aww, now what kind of parent would do that to their poor kid?

"Yes?"

"Santa would like to speak to you."

Darien squinted at the strangely serious face. "Excuse me?"

"Santa." The boy pointed toward the North Pole. Well, not the _real_ North Pole, but the pretend sleigh in the pretend snow that the pretend Santa was sitting on. "He asked me to come get you. He needs to speak with you. He says it's a matter of great Christmas importance."

"Are you sure he didn't mean someone else? I was just going to—"

"He said the man in the hideous green jacket. He could only have meant you."

"Hideous?" Darien brushed his hands along his the front of his jacket. "Look, I'm not—" His gaze landed on Santa, then, and saw the merry blue eyes twinkling straight at him in a way that was more than a little disconcerting.

"Come on," said the boy. "It's Christmas Eve, you know. We haven't got all day."

Taking hold of Darien's sleeve, he dragged him toward Candy Cane Lane, past the line of sniveling, waiting children and their irritated parents, past Santa's teenage helpers in their inappropriately short skirts, straight up to the big man himself.

Darien looked behind him, at the line he'd just cut to the front of, and cringed with embarrassment. "Uh, sorry," he said to the mother right behind him, who was giving him a very frightening evil eye. "This will just take a minute."

Clearing his throat, he turned to Santa Claus, who was sitting on his sleigh with his hands spread out on both knees.

"_Hello!_" he bellowed at Darien. "_Merry Christmas!_"

"Uh, yeah, hi. I was told you wanted to see me?"

"_Ho! Ho! Ho!_" said Santa like a preprogrammed Santa doll. "Yes, indeed, my boy. I have you on my list as being a very _good_ boy this year."

Darien frowned and glanced at the little elf who had dragged him along, then back at the line of children stretching off into the mall, then back at Santa. "I think there's been a mistake."

"Nope, no mistakes here! We keep very good records, you know. Ho! Ho! Ho!"

"Right. Checking it twice and all that."

"You got that right! So as you've been such a good boy, I'm going to give you a very special present."

"I can't wait."

Santa leaned forward and stage-whispered to the elf, "Why don't you bring Mr. Shields his present. You know which one it is, right?" The boy nodded and started digging through a giant brown bag beside the sleigh.

Darien's frown deepened. "How did you know my name?"

Santa just winked and tapped a finger against his nostril. "He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake."

"Okay, that's creepy."

"Here it is, boss," said the elf, handing a red velvet box to Santa.

"Very good, thank you." Santa took the box in both hands and held it out to Darien. "Here you are then, my boy. I want you to treat these with extra care."

Darien eyed the box suspiciously, but his hands reached for it almost against his will. "Look, I'm not sure I—"

"No need to thank me. Just doing my job!" Leaning forward again, he coaxed Darien closer with a curled finger. "Just make sure to use them _very wisely._ Understand?"

"Not really."

Santa sat back again and slapped his palms against his rotund belly. "That's good, my boy. Now you have a _Merry Christmas! Ho! Ho! Ho!_"

Darien opened his mouth to argue against taking the gift, but before he could speak, he was ushered away from Santa and his sleigh by the little elf boy who was peculiarly strong for his size. "Move along now," he piped, "Santa hasn't got all day, busy busy busy. Oh—and _Merry Christmas!_"

Stumbling through the last candy cane arch, Darien turned and looked back at Santa, already with another little boy on his lap.

"There you are!"

Darien spun around as Andrew emerged from the crowd, carrying his own assortment of shopping bags.

"That takes care of Lita," said Andrew. "Which just leaves Serena. We're cutting it a little close, but maybe we can get her a giftcard or—hey, what's that?" Andrew frowned, eyeing the red box in Darien's hands.

"I'm not sure, but probably an illegal substance of some sort."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Santa Claus just gave it to me."

Andrew looked past Darien's shoulders to Santa and the long line of children. "Don't tell me I missed you sitting on Santa's lap."

"Oh, please." Darien strolled off down the mall, suddenly eager to get away from the crazy man in the red suit. The box in his hands had no markings, just plain red velvet, and it was peculiarly light, as if filled with nothing but tissue paper.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Andrew said as the crowd started to thin toward the less-holiday-centric part of the mall. "Maybe it's food. I'm getting kind of hungry."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to accept food from strangers?"

"It's _Santa._"

Shaking his head, Darien paused and, gripping the base of the box with one hand, wriggled off the lid with the other. Andrew leaned forward as they both peered down into the box.

Inside, on a bed of more red velvet, rested fourmilky-white glass balls. Above them sat a small gold plaque, engraved in script letters:

_CHRISTMAS MIRACLES_

"Marbles?" said Darien after a heavy moment of silence. "He gave me marbles?"

"Not marbles, Darien. _Miracles._"

"Right. They look like marbles to me." Handing the lid to Andrew, Darien took one of the glass spheres out of the box and held it up. The fogginess seemed to be swirling and churning inside the glass, a weird trick of the light. "It feels like blown glass, it's so light," he said, peering into the milky depths. "What a useless gift."

The glass ball leaped from his fingertips, as if slicked with oil. Darien gasped and reached for it, snatching it briefly from the air, but a moment later it slipped through his fingertips and shattered on the tile floor, followed by a tiny puff of smoke.

"Smooth move," said Andrew, as they both gaped down at the tiny glass shards. "Remind me never to give you anything breaka—"

"_Aaaaaaayyyyaaaaaaaaa!_"

The red box jumped out of Darien's hand and right into Andrew's arms before, a moment later, a small form toppled on top of Darien. His heel caught on one of the slippery shards of glass and he fell backward with a yelp, landing on the hard floor, his arms wrapped around a slender waist and his mouth full of hair.

He spat out the hair and groaned. His entire body throbbed with pain.

The girl slowly sat up, trembling, and ran her hands over her intact arms and head. "Oh my goodness," she breathed. "I'm not dead. I can't believe I'm not dead. You saved my life! How can I ever thank y—oh. It's just you."

Rubbing his head, Darien peered dizzily up at bright blue eyes and two tails of gold hair. "I should have known," he said with a pained moan. As the world stopped spinning, Darien sat up beside her and raised his eyes to the mall's ceiling. "Did you just fall out of the _sky?_"

"Yes," said Serena, "and for my next trick, I'll be sprouting wings and playing a harp. Honestly, Darien." She accepted Andrew's hand and stood, finger-combing the tangles from her hair.

"Where did you come from?" Darien said, standing too fast and having to pause with his hand on Andrew's shoulder to keep from falling over again.

"I . . . well, I . . ." Serena scratched at the back of her neck and peered upward. "I kind of fell off the balcony. No biggie."

"Are you all right?" asked Andrew. They all looked up at the second floor that wrapped around the main corridor, surrounded by a waist-high railing. A group of people had converged above them and were gawking down at Serena.

She smiled nervously and waved at them. "I'm okay. Just shaken up."

"Yeah, you're okay because you fell on _me._ You could have killed us both. What kind of an idiot jumps off a second-story balcony?"

"Hey, I'm not suicidal!"

"One has to wonder."

"I tripped and fell, okay?"

"Egad, you're even klutzier than I realized. They should lock you away for being a menace to society—before someone gets seriously hurt."

"Well they should lock _you_ away for being . . . a . . . a _jerk_ to society!"

"Wow, good one, Meatball Head."

"Oh, shut up."

"_So,_ Serena!" Andrew said, shoving the red velvet box back into Darien's hands. "You're coming to the party at the arcade tonight, right?"

Her face was flushed with anger as she peeled her gaze away from Darien and forced a smile. "But of course, Andrew! Which reminds me, is there anything I can bring?"

"Nope, I've got everything covered."

"Aren't you hot?"

Serena turned to Darien, hesitated a moment, then grinned devilishly and tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder. "Gee, thanks for noticing, Darien."

He scowled and took the end of her wool scarf between his fingertips. "Don't flatter yourself, Meatball Head. You do realize it's sixty degrees outside, right?"

"Yes," she said, snapping the scarf away from him and looking down at her clothes—two layered sweaters, a down jacket, scarf, mittens, and yellow galoshes. "But I don't care what the weatherman says. It's Christmas, and I'm going to _dress_ like it's Christmas. Besides, maybe if enough of us believed that it could snow, then it would. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to run. Raye's working today, and she's going to help me pick out some last-minute gifts."

"You can't make it snow with the power of your thoughts, Meatball Head."

Serena plugged her ears with her fingers and sang, "Lalala, I can't hear you! Your cynicism cannot ruin my holiday mood!"

"Oh, that's real mature."

"I'll see you tonight, Andrew! Bye!" She jaunted off, ears still plugged, while Andrew waved after her.

"She is so—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but are you okay?" said a middle-aged woman, disrupting whatever accusation Darien had been preparing. "That was quite the fall that girl had."

Darien grunted, in as kindly a manner as possible. "I'm fine, thanks."

"I'm so glad," said the woman. "It's a miracle that you were here to catch her!"

Darien's heart leaped at the word _miracle._ He watched as the woman walked away into the crowd, clutching the red velvet box to his side. Turning toward Andrew, he saw his friend eying him with amazement.

"She's right," Andrew breathed. "It was a miracle."

"Oh, no. It was a coincidence. There are no such things as miracles, especially miracles that come in the form of little glass balls from crazy men with pompoms on their hats."

Andrew glanced down at the red box and slowly shook his head. "I don't know. That was _awfully_ lucky to just be coincidence."

"Lucky? I nearly got a concussion! How is that lucky?"

Shrugging, Andrew shifted his heavy bags to his other hand. "I wouldn't mind having a pretty girl fall out of the sky and into _my_ arms."

Darien squinted in disbelief, looking from Andrew, to the box, back to Andrew. Only too grateful, he shoved the box down into one of Andrew's shopping bags. "Well then, they're _all_ yours. One near-fatal collision a day is plenty enough for me."

"Wow, thanks," said Andrew, grinning as if Darien had just handed him a winning lottery ticket. "Do you think I can use one to make time slow down today? I'm never going to have time to get a gift for Serena _and_ set up for the party at this rate."

"You should have thought of that before waiting until the last day to do your shopping."

"Ooh, I have an idea! Do you think _you_ could pick up a gift for her?"

"What? _Me?_ Wasn't saving her life enough?"

"It's not like you have anything better to do today."

Darien threw his hands up before him. "Absolutely _not._ I'm going to go postal if I have to stay in this nightmare of a mall for another minute."

"Don't be such a Scrooge. It's not going to kill you, and I really need to get back to the arcade. Just pick out something simple for her, okay? Thanks, Darien, I owe you!" Without waiting to be denied, Andrew gathered up his bags in both arms and dodged through the crowd in the opposite direction that Serena had gone, leaving Darien stranded amidst the sea of harried shoppers.

As he realized that he'd just been deserted, in a mall, on Christmas Eve, Darien turned in a slow circle, gaping at all the signs advertising "50-70 percent off!," all the displays of "perfect gifts" and "holiday ideas," all the clerks loitering outside their stores, trying to entice the wayward shoppers.

Head spinning, he rubbed at his pounding temples. "On second thought, I might need one of those miracles after all."

* * *

_Please review._

Alicia says: Sign up for my newsletter at aliciablade dot com. (This year I'm finding a literary agent. Should be barrels of fun!)

Kaitlyn says: Not. Just joking, Alicia ;p … Kind of.

Lillie says: I hope everyone enjoys our first foray into shared fiction. We had a lot of fun writing together. It definitely helped those of us who have been a bit less productive in the last year… or two… or three (i.e., me!)


	2. Chapter 2

A Pocketful of Miracles  
By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

_Troubles more or less,  
Bother me I guess,  
When the sun doesn't shine.  
But there's that pocketful of miracles,  
And with a pocketful of miracles,  
The world's a bright and shiny apple that's mine, all mine._

Chapter Two

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la, lalalala."

"Oh god."

"Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la, lalalala."

"Kill me now."

"Don we now our –"

Mina's incessant singing came to an abrupt halt as Lita slapped a hand over her mouth. Amy smothered a relieved sigh and returned to her book. Not that she could concentrate, anyway. The arcade was filled with people, chattering and laughing and playing computer games. There was the usual dings of the machines, and occasional whirring of the blender, and jingles of coins falling into the slots. Between the noise, the faint melody of Deck the Halls, of which Mina had been singing along to moments before, floated through the speakers.

"What?" Mina whined when Lita released her. "I like Christmas carols!"

Lita swiveled her stool back to the arcade counter and licked her thumb to turn the page of her magazine. "No one likes Christmas carols."

"I do." Mina clasped her hands, eyes shining. "Christmas is the most romantic time of year. What, with the mistletoe, and miracles, and fireplaces, and snow –"

Lita glanced pointedly out the arcade windows at the bare streets of the city. "Snow?"

Mina scowled. "Well, all right, maybe not snow. But if Andrew did his shopping right, there'll definitely be mistletoe."

Without looking up from her book, Amy couldn't help but add, "Did you know that mistletoe is often spread by bird feces? I'd hardly call that romantic."

Mina made a noise that sounded like a dying cat.

Lita snorted. "Amy, where the heck do you get this stuff?"

Amy closed her book. "Wikipedia. Do either of you know when Andrew's getting back? I've cleared my entire day to help him out, and he's not even here."

Mina nodded over to the automatic doors. "Ask and ye shall receive."

Amy turned as Andrew hurried into the arcade, holding a tremendous amount of bags considering it was only supposed to be a small party.

Lita jumped up from her stool. "Do you need help –?"

"No, it's okay," Andrew said, ducking behind the counter before she could reach him and hurrying into the back room.

Lita raised an eyebrow. "That was rude."

"He's got our Christmas presents," Mina said dreamily.

"How do you know?"

"I doubt he's bought himself something from _Victoria's Secret_."

Amy eyed her book longingly, but Andrew appeared again all too soon with a bag stuffed with decorations. He handed a trail of green tinsel over the counter to Lita. "Would you please start hanging this up? Ladder's in the back. Mina, you can have the candy canes – just hang them from the tree. Amy, here's –"

But Amy was destined to remain empty-handed. Amongst the ornaments, a small velvet box tumbled out and clattered onto the counter. All girls froze. Mina and Lita regarded the item as though it were a sacred treasure. Unmarked, without a ribbon. Too red to be Tiffany's. Too pretty to be from a cheap shop.

"What's that?" Lita asked.

"Who's that for?" Mina said simultaneously.

Andrew laughed, sounding a little embarrassed. He picked up the box. "Actually, it was from the Santa at the mall. He gave it to Darien, but of course Darien didn't want it, so –"

"Let me see."

Mina practically snatched the box from Andrew's hand and tugged at the lid. Andrew lunged forward to steady it. "Be careful."

"What's in there?" Lita said, but Mina had already gotten it open. "Marbles?"

"Marbles," Mina echoed, her voice dripping with disappointment.

"Marbles?" Amy said, taking the box gently from Mina, who surrendered it without a fight. Her grandfather used to play marbles – he still had a whole sackful sitting in the attic of ones he'd won in school.

Amy studied the milky-white spheres, and ran her finger along the plaque.

_CHRISTMAS MIRACLES_

"That's quite cute," she said. "I'm sure a lot of children would get a thrill out of the idea. They'd probably tuck the marbles under their pillow on Christmas Eve or something. What a sweet gift."

"I'd much prefer to hang _my_ gift from my earlobes," Mina said beneath her breath, but her muttering was ignored.

"It's a nice thought," Lita said. "A box of little miracles."

Andrew grinned. "Well, actually, Darien broke one, and Serena ended up falling from the balcony. Talk about a miracle."

"WHAT?"

Andrew hastily held up his hands as he was met with three horrified expressions. "I said that wrong. Let me try again."

Once the story was explained properly, and the momentary outrage had died down, the four set to work. Amy had the unpleasant task of blowing up green and red balloons to hang amongst the baubles. There was no pump, so she had to do it all manually, and it wasn't long before she got light-headed and had to sit down at the counter again.

The crowd had died down somewhat, as most people headed out for lunch rather than stay in. Without the constant chatter, the Christmas carols were loud and clear from the speaker. Amy found herself absently humming along to Winter Wonderland while she sipped at a cup of tea to wash the taste of rubber from her mouth. She watched as Mina and Lita argued over the best way to drape the tinsel around the room, while Andrew busied himself in and out of the kitchen with what looked like the beginning of many delicious Christmas platters.

Amy's attention returned to the velvet box, now sitting on a shelf behind the counter. She wondered whether Andrew would mind if she took a marble for her grandfather. They were nice looking, and he'd appreciate the thought.

Amy waved to Andrew next time he hurried past. "Do you mind if I take a marble from that box?"

Andrew barely glanced over at her, too absorbed with the tray in his blue oven mitts to pay attention. "Sure thing. Help yourself."

Amy slipped around the counter and took the box from the shelf. It was so light that she had a moment of panic that someone had stolen the marbles, but when she opened the lid to check, they were all still there.

They really were a beautiful color. And smoky, too, as though there were little clouds inside the glass. Amy held one up to her eye to take a closer look. She'd seen hundreds of her grandfather's marbles before, but none had looked like this –

Quite suddenly, as though someone had tugged the ball right from her fingertips, the marble flew forward and smashed onto the ground. It must have landed on a layer of dust or something, because a puff of smoke billowed up from between the shattered glass.

Amy gasped, her heart lurching. "Andrew, I'm so sorry, it just slipped –"

But Andrew had returned to the kitchen, and the other casual employee was on the opposite side of the room giving out "Christmas-flavored" lattes.

Amy glanced around, still open-mouthed, still waiting for someone to scold her. As she turned to the automatic doors, they whooshed open, and a boy about her age traipsed in, running a harried hand through his windswept brown hair. Amy froze, knowing how she must appear – a customer in a staff-only section with a guilty expression on her face and a broken marble at her feet.

"I can explain!" she cried.

The boy stopped, his frown easing. "What?"

"It was an accident."

"O…kay…" The boy took another step forward.

"I'm allowed to be back here."

He was going to call for the other employee. Amy knew he would. The other employee didn't realize that she was Andrew's friend. He didn't understand that she had asked permission to be behind the counter. And the broken marble was an accident. Just an accident. It could have happened to anybody.

Amy's face was getting hot. Why was the heater on in this place, anyway?

"My friend works here," she said, although the words seemed to be getting stuck to the roof of her mouth as she spoke. "I know the health and safety regulations require all customers to be on the other side, but it was only for a second – I just wanted to get a marble for my grandfather, but one of them slipped, it was an accident, I swear, and you don't need to call for anyone, because I know the manager here and he let me come behind the counter. Did I say that already?"

While she had been speaking, the boy had taken a seat at the counter, resting his chin on his palm and leaning forward with that frown still on his face, as though he was either listening intently or preparing to call the other employee.

Amy stared back at him, panting from her rambles and waiting for him to say something. When several seconds passed and he still didn't speak, she added meekly, "Did you want a milkshake or something?"

A smile finally broke through the boy's frown. "Well, actually, I was just looking for a payphone."

A rush of air passed Amy's lips. "Oh." She glanced down at the broken marble. "It really was an accident, you know."

The boy nodded seriously. "Yes, I'm sure it was."

And now he just thought she was stupid.

Amy threaded her fingers through her short hair and pointed to the back corner. "There's a phone over there. Don't use two quarters in a row or they'll get jammed."

The boy's lips quirked. "Thanks." He slipped off the stool and weaved through the game machines to the payphone.

Amy watched his retreating back, then groaned and grabbed a dustpan to sweep up the broken marble. "Stupid stupid stupid."

"Of all the people in this arcade, Amy, you're the last one I'd call stupid."

Amy glanced up from the floor. Andrew smiled and held out a hand to help her up. "What happened?"

Amy accepted his assistance, brushing off her knee-length denim skirt and placing the dustpan on the counter. "I… uh… dropped a marble. I'm so sorry."

Andrew laughed. "That's okay. Guess today's the day for clumsiness. If even the smooth, suave Darien can drop a marble, you can too." He wriggled his eyebrows. "So? Did you get a miracle as well?"

Amy glanced over at the payphone, where the boy was leaning against the wall, hands in pockets, the phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder. Composed. Collected. Cool. A glaring contrast to her own disastrous demeanor.

"Miracle?" she said with a sigh. "No. Not quite."

* * *

_Please review._

_Love __**Scott and Amy**__ (and who doesn't?), be sure to check out the fanfiction and LJ communities devoted to them! See Alicia's and Kaitlyn's profiles for links._


	3. Chapter 3

A Pocketful of Miracles  
By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

_I hear sleigh bells ringing,  
Smack in the middle of May.  
I go around like there's snow around,  
I feel so good,  
It's Christmas every day._

Chapter Three

Raye looked up as the chime rang through the antiques store. It cut off the blaring music and she was glad for the momentary reprieve. She placed the last of the dancing women in a tall curio cabinet. She would have to come back to fill in the next tier with the leaping porcelain lords.

She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and stretched an overly exuberant smile over her face before she came around the display and faced her customer. Her face relaxed when she saw her friend.

"Serena." But the blonde was taking in the store and didn't hear her. Or maybe it had more to do with the digits she had deeply rooted in her ears. Raye walked over and pulled the fingers out. "Serena."

"Oh, hi, Raye!" Serena bounced with excess energy causing the long ends of her scarf and hair to intertwine together. In her excitement, her arms flew out like wings.

"Hold on." Raye pressed her friend's arms into her sides, fixing her to the ground. "This is not a kid's store, Serena. If you break it, you buy it."

"I'm not two years old."

Raye pressed her red lips together. The ghost of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

"Hey, you're dressed up for Christmas too!" Serena took in the fashionable scarf tied at Raye's neck and the scoop neck sweater tunic. Black leggings hugged her snuggly down to her leather knee-high boots. Maybe Raye wasn't quite as bundled up as Serena, but her clothes definitely didn't reflect the warm temperatures outside.

Raye stared at her. "They keep the air conditioning on full blast in here." She pointed to the vent blowing on them. Serena only then noticed its chilling spray fluttering across the tip of her nose. "I have to dress warm otherwise I'd freeze to death."

"So, you're not in the Christmas spirit?" Serena was heartbroken.

"Sure I am. I'm looking forward to tomorrow with great anticipation

"Really? Are you going to get lots of presents?"

"No."

"Going to the movies?"

"Nope."

"Eating lots of yummy Christmas ham?"

Raye shook her head. Serena started counting off the things she'd already listed on her hand. She dropped the first three of her fingers.

"Making gingerbread cookies?" Her thumb was left sticking out, like a hitchhiker wearing every single piece of clothing she owned.

Raye laughed. "Only if they're instant bakes."

"Then _what_?" Serena pressed her hands into what Raye could only guess were her hips. It was hard to tell just where Serena was underneath all those layers. Her nose poked out from the iridescent scarf covering her mouth and neck. Her words were muffled through the thick wool.

Raye closed her eyes, fantasizing about the day to come, or, more accurately, the day after the day to come. Her hands pressed together, rubbing her palms before they clasped together. "After tomorrow, I can break the Christmas CD."

"What?" Serena deadpanned. A blonde eyebrow twitched.

"Look, if you had to listen to Christmas songs for two months straight you'd be pretty irritated, too." She stalked off to tidy up the cash register. Serena followed. "And it certainly wasn't helped by Mina's caroling this morning." Raye put her hands on her ears to drown out the memory.

"I think Mina has the right idea. How can you be such a grump when it's Christmas and there are all these lovely songs and decorations and presents and really great food to eat?"

Raye thought she spotted a little drool coming down the corner of Serena's mouth. She grabbed her wrist before Serena could start spinning with Christmas spirit into the Twelve Days of Hell—uh, Christmas—display. She didn't think her boss would appreciate the loss of the partridge and most of its pear tree.

"Are you here to gag me with holiday colloquialism or are you here to shop?"

Serena sighed. Raye almost felt sorry to deflate her enthusiasm. Almost. After weeks of being locked inside a mall stuffed with people frothing over with holiday spirit, Christmas music beating into her skull, and screeching kids who were scarred by their first trips to Santa, Raye was on the brink of insanity.

"I need a present for my mom. She really likes jewelry boxes."

"Wonderful." Raye pressed her saleswoman smile onto her lips. It was eerie how her eyes shone with false interest. Serena took a tiny step back, not sure if this woman was really her friend. "Let me show you our selection of one-of-a-kind jewelry boxes that your mother will love." She led Serena toward the back of the store.

"You sound like an infomercial."

"Shut up and shop." Ah, there was Raye.

Serena pressed her hands behind her back as she looked over the small display of boxes along the wall. There were ornaments hanging down to the left of the boxes. The lights shown through them and a kaleidoscope of colors glittered on the floor. To her right was a sunken white door. The rest of the display continued on the other side of the door and held two tall cases of china dolls with beautifully painted faces and velvet dresses.

"We have a few different types." Raye pointed her attention back to the gifts she could afford. But she couldn't blame Serena. Even she found herself pulled in by the glass eyes and shapely cheeks of the dolls. The lips painted perfectly onto alabaster faces. Their hair was curled and their dresses were festive colors. They were also from a single private artist and worth more than their life savings combined.

Raye ran her long finger down the swooped edge of a wooden box. Her fingernail caught the brass clasp and she opened the box to show the red felt lining and small depression. A mirror in the lid reflected Serena's face as Raye rested it in her palms and faced it toward the blonde. She pulled out the drawers to show the various compartments made to house every type of jewelry imaginable.

"There are glass ones, too. And smaller ones if that would work better."

She was just reaching for another when the door beside them fell open. A great deal of scuffling came from the other side, but with the door facing them, neither knew what was about to step out. They both waited as the door swung back. Serena's eyes shown with warmth as she took in a familiar figure.

"Chad!" she yelled in greeting. Chad, having not realized that someone was behind him, screamed in surprised. He jumped a full foot in the air. The box in his arms soared even higher. He grabbed at it, his fingers groping empty air as his feet cartwheeled for purchase. He managed a few clumsy footsteps before he fell onto his rear, the box secure against his stomach.

Raye's face was already contorting into a scowl and just as she was about to stomp over to give him a lecture that would blow the grizzly hair right off of his chin, Serena slid in front of her and blocked her attack.

"Chad, it's so nice to see you here!" She said cheerily, offering her hand. He gladly took it and struggled to stand while keeping hold of the box. Serena stepped back and elbowed Raye. She winked at her irate friend. Raye raised a black eyebrow, her anger dissipating into distrust of the mischievous glint in Serena's eyes.

Chad carefully laid down the box before he came back to them. He greeted Serena with equal enthusiasm and they shared a hug. Chad had to struggle a bit to fit his arms around Serena's many layers. Raye crossed her arms, thinking they looked like two four year olds on a play date. Chad pulled Serena back and took in her clothing. His eyes lit up with hope. "Don't tell me it's snowing outside?"

Serena could feel his excitement tingling down their linked arms. Finally, someone who could appreciate her Christmas wish! "No snow yet." She watched his face fall and shook his arms. "But if enough of us wish hard enough maybe it will!"

"Totally!" He beamed with belief.

Raye groaned at the two of them, holding hands and staring into each others' sparkling eyes. She could feel cavities forming in her mouth. "Chad, aren't you supposed to be doing inventory?"

"Right, right!" He squeezed Serena's hands. "I'll keep my hopes up!" Then he was off, scurrying through the door as Raye's impatient gaze burned into his back. They could hear him whistling "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" as he shuffled through boxes.

Raye rubbed her eyes with her fingers. First Mina and now Chad had the caroling fever. She groaned. It was going to be a _long_ day.

"You're such a grinch." Serena pressed her gloved hands into the pockets of her jacket. She smirked with a twinkle in her eye. "I bet he got this job because you're here."

Raye wasn't about to say that Serena was right. And she certainly wasn't going to admit that he grounded her the first few weeks when she didn't really know what she was doing. She had never worked retail before and her strong personality didn't lend her to as many friends as Serena, so it took her a while to learn the right and wrong things to say to customers. Then Chad applied and was hired and became her punching bag. After all, she didn't have to pretend to be nice to him. It was nice to have someone who understood her.

Raye crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot. "He's been nothing but trouble. You see how clumsy he is? In an antique shop that deals in porcelain knickknacks and china dolls!" She threw her hands up into the air, her black hair flying behind her flowered headband as she shook her head.

"It's a wonder he's still here at all." Serena was convinced that the door was really titanium as it didn't melt from the glare Raye had trained on it. What she wasn't convinced of was how quickly her friend was able to make excuses for Chad.

"It's okay, Raye, you can tell Auntie Serena that you're actually glad he's here."

Raye frowned and pulled her eyes from the door. Serena swore she could see a small hole marring the white paint. "Your matchmaking skills are as bad as Mina's if you think I'm interested in that dope."

"Aw, come on, Raye. It's okay to trust your feelings." She pressed her mittens into her chest to simulate the beating of a heart. Raye was less than amused.

"I do trust my feelings," she huffed. Raye stepped behind the counter and pointed to the back of the store. "Right now, I'm feeling you need to buy a jewelry box so I can get on with my life."

"Party pooper."

Raye rolled her eyes as Serena turned and went back over to the wall. After a few minutes, she returned to the cash register with a large intricately carved box. Raye rang her up then wrapped the present in thick paper and pressed it into a white gift box. She stuffed the box and the receipt into a glossy red bag.

"There is a wrapping station across from the food court."

"Don't forget to think about your feelings," Serena said as she exited, the chimes ringing through the speakers. Nat King Cole's voice quickly drowned them out.

"Bah, humbug," Raye called as "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" sang in the background.


	4. Chapter 4

A Pocketful of Miracles

By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

Chapter Four

Serena left the antique store humming "Merry Little Christmas" to herself, the glossy red shopping bag dangling from her wrist. All of her holiday shopping was officially done and now all she had to do was relax and drink hot cocoa and enjoy the festivities. Oh—and figure out what she was going to wear to Andrew's party, of course. Perhaps she should use this extra time to pick out a new outfit? Something pretty and flirty, something that would turn heads, something that might make Darien noti—

She rolled her eyes at her own hopelessness. Who was she kidding? Darien seeing her as anything other than a ditzy klutz was about as likely as waking up to two feet of snow on Christmas morning.

She sighed, her murmured Christmas carol dying away somewhere around "let your heart be light."

"_But,_" she said aloud, shaking off the fleeting bout of defeatism, "that doesn't mean it's _impossible._ Right? Right." With a firm nod, she took off down the crowded corridor again.

She'd just determined that a cute new dress was definitely in order when her eyes caught on a gorgeous display in the florist's window before her—crimson poinsettias and delicate paper whites, towering narcissus and festive holly berries, bundles of lush roses and, overhanging it all, a cloud of mistletoe sprigs dangling from gold ribbons.

She beamed, hope blossoming in her chest once more. "No, _that_ is definitely in order!"

She would buy a sprig of mistletoe and hang it up in the arcade. So long as Mina and Lita didn't hog it all night, it should be easy for her to catch Darien under it and, well, even he couldn't argue with tradition, right?

A gleeful giggle escaped her as she skipped into the florist shop, straight to the display window. She reached up and untied one of the bright green branches. While the plant may not get her a confession of undying love, she would just have to be satisfied with a Christmas kiss. A blush crept up her cheeks. The arcade lights would be dim and sparkling softly. Christmas music would be humming in the background. She and Darien would be having a nice, civil conversation for once and then one of the girls, probably Mina, would whistle at them and say, "Oooh, look who's under the mistletoe!" She and Darien would both blush, but as she looked up, heart thumping, their eyes would meet. He would inch toward her. Reaching up, he would tuck a stray curl behind her ear, his fingertips tentatively brushing her cheek. She would hold her breath, the world fading in the background as he slowly . . . slowly . . .

"_Please_ tell me you're not thinking about Andrew right now."

She jumped and spun around, clutching the mistletoe to her pounding heart. Her cheeks were already burning and she sensed them growing warmer as she met Darien's sardonic gaze.

He glanced down at the mistletoe then rolled his eyes. "Yuck."

"What?" she said, immediately defensive. "It's traditional!"

"Did you know that most mistletoe is spread by bird feces?"

Her brow knit as she slowly digested this little factoid. "You," she said, "are very good at ruining things for a person, you know that?"

He gave a one-shouldered shrug, as if she'd just complimented him. "We both know you just want to catch Andrew under one of those."

Her stomach churned with a mix of anger and mortification. "For your information, I was _not_ thinking about Andrew. I'm buying the mistletoe for . . . for Raye! She has a crush on a coworker of hers, so I'm just trying to help things along." The lie came easily, as they usually did when she was talking to Darien. _You're such a jerk. I can't stand you. I never want to see you again._

"How convenient."

"Oh, shut up, Darien. I don't even like Andrew like that. Mina and Lita might, but to me, he's just a friend." She marched past him toward the cashier and slammed the mistletoe down on the counter before she accidentally crushed it in her fist.

"Okay, then who were you thinking about when you went all googly-eyed a second ago?" Darien said from behind her.

"None of your business!" Serena struggled to calm her writhing thoughts as the cashier scanned the mistletoe. "Besides, you can't tell me there isn't anyone you wouldn't mind catching under the mistletoe . . . um, can you?"

"Sure I can," said Darien. "Mistletoe is for desperate people who don't have the guts to come right out and tell a person they like them."

Serena bristled, her eyes locked on the cashier's hands as she wrapped the mistletoe in tissue paper. Pursing her lips, she turned back to him, arms crossed over her chest. "Well bah humbug. You don't have a speck of Christmas spiri—what's that?" She gaped at the potted amaryllis in Darien's hands, the potted amaryllis that had not been there a minute ago. The flower was beautiful, with pale pink and ivory petals and an elegant stem that was at least two feet tall.

"A plant," Darien said, setting the terra cotta pot down on the counter.

"Who's it for?"

A haughty smile crept over his lips. "None of your business."

Her jaw clenched. Realizing that the cashier was holding her change out for her, she snatched it away and shoved it into her purse.

"Do you think she'll like it?"

Her breath hitched and she couldn't help but look at Darien again, unable to hide her stricken expression. "_She?_"

He shrugged nonchalantly and fingered the pink petals. "I'm not very good at this gift-giving thing. What do you think?"

She gulped, her throat constricting, and stared at the amaryllis. That ugly, horrible, no-good plant. Sucking in a steadying breath, she tilted her head back and looked down her nose at the hateful gift. "I prefer roses myself," she said, each word forced from between her teeth.

"Roses," Darien said, scratching his chin. He glanced over his shoulder at the case of multi-colored roses in the corner. "That's not a bad idea."

That was when Serena felt the first threatening prick of tears. Tensing, she grabbed her little bag of mistletoe from the counter and turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, "Well, I hope _she_ appreciates it!"

"Hey, Serena, wait a second."

She ordered her feet to ignore him, to keep walking, to _run_ if they had to—anything to keep him from knowing how much he'd just upset her. But her feet ignored her, paused, and turned back to face him. He stepped forward, leaving the amaryllis alone on the counter.

"Actually, do you have any other ideas?" he said, lowering his voice and appearing suddenly serious . . . which was about a million times worse than his teasing.

Because if he was serious, it meant he was maybe, possibly, serious about _her. _Whoever she was.

"Ideas for what?" she said, refusing to encourage the conversation in any manner.

"For a gift. I was kind of stumped . . . but, well . . . for example, what would _you_ like for Christmas?"

She scrunched up the mistletoe's bag in one hand and the handle of the poor antique-store bag in the other and eased her face into serene indifference. "Who's it for? Your girlfriend?" She almost choked on the last word but barely managed to stay neutral.

Darien did look momentarily surprised. And then—horrors!—he looked momentarily flustered! Serena could feel her jaw begin to tremble and squeezed her teeth shut.

"N-no. Just a girl."

A girl that you're _in love with?_ she wanted to scream at him. She felt betrayed. Crushed. How dare he allow her to become so infatuated with him while all the while he was thinking about some other girl?

That jerk! He was ruining Christmas!

"It's not a trick question, Meatball Head," he said, tapping his foot. "What would you like for Christmas?"

"Absolutely nothing," she spat. "All I want is for it to snow, so you're going to have to go grill some _other_ girl to give you ideas for your—"

"Oh, give me a break! It's not going to snow, Serena. There must be something else you want?"

"Look," she said, louder than she'd meant to, as the last thread of patience snapped. "I'm not stupid. I realize it would take a miracle at this point, okay? But really, Darien, what's—" She had to pause as her voice quivered. She stomped her foot and forced herself to continue. "What's so _wrong_ with believing in miracles?"

Gaze blurring, she turned and fled from the florist shop.

Darien stood, rooted to the floor, his jaw slack as he watched her pigtails and wool scarf fluttering behind her. "Miracles?" he murmured. With a groan, he smacked his hand to his forehead. "Miracles! Why didn't I think of that before?"


	5. Chapter 5

A Pocketful of Miracles

By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

Chapter Five

The nice-looking boy had gone. And yes, Amy thought he had been nice-looking. Even though she didn't typically go for the scraggly type, with the faded jeans, and baggy tops, and hair a touch longer than it should be. After all, personal grooming was usually a sign of good hygiene.

But despite all that, he was nice-looking.

It was his eyes, Amy decided. Those puppy-brown eyes that watched her so intently. And that quirky, teasing smile of his. It was very attractive.

Even these innocent thoughts were making her blush.

Amy returned to decorating the arcade tree, though it was already crammed full of baubles and tinsel and mini homemade Santas dangling from twine. Lita was shaking a can of fake snow on the other side and spraying it across the few bare pine needles. Mina had taken over blowing up the balloons. She was trying to flutter her eyelashes at a boy sitting by the counter at the same time, but it was hard for her to look sexy when her face was going blue.

Amy wondered whether the nice-looking boy would have stayed if she had fluttered her eyelashes a bit. Or flirted. Or done _something_ other than make a fool of herself.

She caught sight of her reflection in a silver bauble, and stopped, trying to see herself as if for the first time. Was she appealing to the opposite sex? At all? Maybe she should have worn make-up today – at least swiped on some mascara, or lip gloss, or glittery eye shadow, like Mina kept begging her to do. Or she could have put some nice butterfly clips in her hair, to keep her bangs off her face.

Amy sighed and flicked the bauble, so it swung away from her, taking her reflection with it. It didn't matter, anyway. The boy was gone, and he wasn't coming back. He was just a boy. There were plenty of them out there. And she had more important things to worry about, like extra-credit assignments, and the daunting prospect of starting university next year. She wasn't like her friends – she didn't have time to agonize over boys.

She jumped when Lita rattled the fake-snow can right in her ear.

"Earth to Amy. Come in, Amy. Can you hear me?"

Amy glanced up at the brunette and smiled. "Sorry. What did you say?"

Lita lowered the can. "Nothing. I just noticed you were spacing out and wanted to get in on the action." She tilted her head. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"She was thinking about the boy." Amy spun as Mina danced up behind them with a knowing grin on her face. "Amy was thinking about the boy who was in here earlier."

Lita chuckled. "Ah. I thought something funny was going on if Amy was in daydream land."

Amy struggled to keep the heat from her face. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Mina draped an arm around her shoulders. "Amy, my dear, you are possibly the worst liar in the city."

"In the state," Lita said.

"In all the world," Mina decided, staring wistfully at the fake snow on the Christmas tree. "It's okay, though. You're well into puberty, now. These things do happen eventually."

"Oh… oops. I must have come in to the wrong part of that conversation."

All three girls turned. The nice-looking boy from earlier was standing behind them, an amused grin on his face.

"Oh no," Lita said quickly. "We weren't talking about her cycle or anything."

"_Or_ her bra size," Mina added. As if that somehow helped.

Amy's face was so hot that it was actually causing her tear ducts to well up. If she had thought her last encounter with the boy had been humiliating, she had been terribly mistaken.

The boy looked as though he was smothering a smile. "Well… phew." He glanced around the arcade, taking in the half-finished decorations and laid-out platters. "Listen… I ran into some bad luck, and I'm stuck here for a while. I went for a walk, but it doesn't seem like there's a lot to do around here for the funds-deprived, so… do you need help or something? I noticed you're setting up for a party."

"That would be great!" Mina said, nudging Amy hard in the ribs and giving a very unsubtle wink. "We're just about to start hanging the lights. We could definitely use an extra pair of hands."

"Sure."

Amy finally got her mouth working. "No – we weren't going to put up the lights yet. Remember? We promised to wait until Serena got here."

Lita pushed her forward, towards the boy. "I'm sure she won't mind if we start without her. You can use the ladder I was on before. It's in the back corner."

Amy's shoulders drooped, and she turned, trudging toward the decorations bag, which held the tangled twinkle-fairy lights, and then to the ladder. She could feel the boy following close behind. She couldn't even imagine what was going through his mind. Whatever it was, it couldn't be favorable. Behind her, she could hear Mina and Lita giggling like six-year-olds. It was like some kind of nightmare.

"So… I'm Scott."

Amy half-turned back to the boy, surprised he was trying to make conversation after everything he'd endured.

"Amy," she said, and then turned away again, unable to handle the thought of even facing him.

They reached the ladder, and Amy stood to one side, holding the lights out. Scott hesitated at the base. "Um… actually…"

Amy sighed, her eyes on the ground. "If you don't want to help, that's fine. I completely understand, after having to deal with Mina and Lita…"

"No, it's not that." Scott rubbed the back of his head. He actually looked awkward, which was something Amy had thought impossible mere moments ago. He winced. "This is kind of embarrassing."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "More embarrassing than everything that's happened to me today?" Bra sizes included.

Scott chuckled, albeit somewhat uncomfortably. "Probably not." He drew a breath. "It's just… I'm not that great with heights."

Much to her surprise, Amy relaxed. This boy was not perfect. He was just another person. He had seen her at her worst, but he had faults, too. And heights were something she could deal with.

"That's okay," she said, gathering up the lights and throwing them over one shoulder. "I can do it. You just grab the masking tape from Andrew behind the counter." She scaled the ladder and waited. Scott returned with the tape, handing up a torn strip to use. She was at just the right height to lean down and take it from him, and plaster it up on the wall. Scott tore off another piece. "I think you'll need double."

"I think we'll need triple," Amy said, watching as the taped electric cord between the lights wavered dangerously.

Once the first section had been stuck up with multiple strips of tape, she climbed down the ladder and carried the lights to another part of the arcade so they strung along the wall.

Amy snuck a glance at her friends. Mina and Lita were busy playing arcade games, the rest of the balloons forgotten at their side. Andrew had gone back to work, since the place had picked up and was too busy for the other employee to work on his own.

"So is this place doing a Christmas Eve thing tonight?" Scott said, holding the ladder while Amy plastered more tape to the electric cord.

"It's just a small thing for Andrew's friends," Amy said, checking to make sure the tape was strong enough. "We're having a get-together after the arcade closes. You know, to exchange gifts and possibly sing a few Christmas carols, if Mina and Serena have a high enough sugar intake."

"That sounds nice."

Amy glanced down at Scott, whose eyes, to his credit, were not on her legs, but on her face. Amy realized belatedly that climbing a ladder in a skirt – even a long one – was not the smartest of ideas.

She skittered back down the ladder, suddenly self-conscious. Hadn't enough mortifying things happened to her today already?

"So why are you stuck here?" she said, keen to keep her mind – and his – off the skirt issue.

Scott picked up the ladder and carried it to the next space, while she trailed behind with the lights. "I was driving upstate to meet with my cousin. He got us a gig near his place for tonight."

"A gig?"

"Yeah. We've started a band."

Amy eyed him warily as he leant the ladder against the wall. "What kind of band?"

He gave her a sideways glance, his lips quirking. "A music band."

Amy glossed over her stupid question by asking a more generic one. "What do you play?"

"Little bit of everything. Mostly guitar. I do vocals as well." He shrugged. "But my car broke down, so my cousin has to drive down to pick me up, or I won't be playing _anything_ tonight."

Amy swallowed, wondering how far upstate "upstate" was. "When will your cousin get here?"

In other words, _when was he leaving?_

Scott fiddled with the position of the ladder, as though he was trying not to meet her eye. "Not for a while yet. I have to wait until he's finished work." He let out a sigh. "I'm stuck here for a few more hours."

Amy pursed her lips, trying not to be offended. Of course Scott wouldn't want to be here with her, when he should be at his cousin's house already, drinking eggnog and warming up for his gig. He had better things to do than help put up Christmas lights for someone else's party.

But as she went to climb up the ladder, he spoke again. "Though I can think of worse places to be."

She risked a glance over at him, and he smiled at her. Not a teasing smile, or an amused smile, like before. A proper smile, as if he was just happy to be there. With her.

Amy had to turn away to hide her blush. He was in a band. A _band_. Guys in bands drank alcohol, and did drugs, and slept around with all sorts of women, and toured the country, and trashed hotel rooms. She didn't want to get caught up with someone as undesirable as that.

But when her foot slipped on the third rung and she fell right into Scott's arms, his undesirability was the last thing on her mind.


	6. Chapter 6

A Pocketful of Miracles

By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

Chapter Six

An hour after Serena left, the only feeling running through Raye was a sudden rush of hunger. She pressed her cold hands to her cheeks, trying to drown out the music and growing ache in her side. The ache lessened, but she was certain the music was getting louder. Or most of the people had headed to the food court and their squeaking shoes weren't able to drown it out any more. She enjoyed the moment of solitude, glad for not having to chase down errant children whose hands were quick about grabbing the most expensive and fragile pieces of merchandise in the store. A few displays had barely escaped an untimely fall to the red carpeted floor already.

Raye chewed on a nail in boredom. She had polished the display cases and finished putting up the Twelve Days. There were now a full set of things calling, milking, swimming, and whatever else-ing the silly song called for. She looked out to the kiosks outside the store and saw the employees dipping into styrofoam trays of take-out goodness. Noodles and wraps and french fries were being stuffed into big gaping mouths. She could feel her mouth filling with saliva and she quickly swallowed it before she began to drool. She was _not_ like Serena who could stuff the entire food court into her stomach in one sitting. Her stomach grumbled loudly in defiance.

"Want to go to lunch together?" Chad stuck his head out from the stockroom. He had labels taped to the fingers that held open the door. Raye could read the names of the seasonal displays to come: Valentine's, St. Patrick's, and Easter. But Chad hadn't stopped there. Some part of him—no doubt the same part that believed as Serena believed that it would snow when it was sixty degrees outside—had felt creative. Valentine's had a big red heart drawn on it. There was a four-leaf clover on the St. Patrick's Day label. Easter had a little egg with squiggles of various marker colors on it. She wondered where he had found all the colored markers.

Her stomach cried once again and Chad gave her a knowing smile. His lips parted and showed his teeth. She couldn't see his eyes through the long bangs, but she had a feeling that they were laughing at her too. She imagined he wiggled his eyebrows and she felt her cheeks started to heat.

"No," Raye barked. Her eyes were wide and her hair fanned out behind her as she waved her hands in circles. He looked a little stunned, but the smile fell back onto his face easily. She was cute when she was flustered. And he knew Raye had too much pride to admit how hungry she really was. He didn't feel the sting of the rejection. After four years, he was comfortable with the way she treated him. It wasn't like he was a glutton for punishment. He just knew, like he had known when he had first met her, that he loved her instantly and that she needed him. She didn't know it yet, but one day she would. He would continue to support her until then. Even if it meant being her lap dog.

"Alright, well, I'll see you when you get back." He laid his head against the door. "Do you need anything?"

"Peace and quiet," she sighed, massaging her temples. Hunger headache incoming, she thought. And it wasn't any easier to be amiable with the chipmunks screeching through the speakers. She imagined bashing Alvin with his hula hoop and felt a little better. She opened her eyes and from the look on his face, he had an idea of what she was thinking.

Slowly his mouth inched into a devious grin. And though she fought it, her heart fluttered just the slightest bit for the tease she knew would come.

"You really are a grinch."

"Chad!" she shrieked but he had already taken refuge in the stockroom. The door swung closed behind him. Her skin crawled with anger. He was always able to do that to her. She had always thought him dopy and stupid, then he would say something that purposefully taunted her temper. He knew just what to say to get her on edge. That he knew her so well angered her even more.

"Wipe that scowl off your face," Jim grumbled as he stepped into the store. Raye had been trying to burn a hole in the white door again. She quickly schooled her face into a neutral expression as the owner surveyed the store. "How many customers?"

"Fifty-three."

"How many buys?"

"Four." She prepared for his growl. He did not disappoint.

He pressed a thick hand to his goatee, stroking the thin red wisps. He was a man with a temper to rival her own and an even shorter fuse. She did more than tiptoe around him, she nearly levitated. His beady dark eyes were looking at the displays. She withheld a sigh, knowing he was going to have her rearrange something.

This was their routine. He came in a little after noon, asked about business, and then decided if things should be moved around. If business was good—which wasn't too often—he would leave it or have Chad bring something else from the back to fill in more floor space. If it was bad, then Raye and Chad were left to spend the rest of the day moving things out of cases, relocating the heavy cases, and restocking with the collectables.

She eyed the Twelve Days of Christmas display in a towering curio cabinet. She saw him following her gaze and immediately tried to direct him to the much smaller, more intricate manger scene to its left.

"Yes," and he nodded, his neck slinking like an accordion. "Let's move the manger to the front. And those two end tables." He pointed to a pair of wooden tables with mosaic tiling on their tops. Finally, he took in the entirety of the Twelve Days display. Raye's tongue dried to the top of her mouth as she hoped and wished and prayed—

"This one," he tapped against the glass side. "I think it would look good in here." He stepped to the end of what could be considered an aisle. It was a long line of different pieces: glassed cabinets, curio towers of dark wood, and hutches with delicately painted china. The surfaces were piled with old clocks, lamps, and some of the smaller paintings. The larger ones were hung behind the wall with the cash register.

Raye admitted it was probably a smart idea to put the tall cabinet with all their other furniture, but she didn't have to like the idea. She'd spent most of the morning placing the pieces just so and now she was going to have to tear it all down and get Chad to move the big cabinet. She bit her cheek, knowing he wouldn't have a problem showing off his strength.

"After lunch?" The hope in her voice was laced with sheer desperation. Her stomach was about to eat itself.

As if to prove it, it gurgled loudly. Raye couldn't even feel embarrassed because Jim immediately waved her away. He hadn't looked quite as willing before her stomach had let him know that she was nearing cannibalism. She wasted no time gathering her things and heading out.

"Thirty minutes," he grunted behind her.

Her mouth flopped open. There was no way she could get to the arcade, drop off her gifts, eat, and be back in time. She began to argue, but he was faster.

"Twenty-nine." She spun on her heel and ran to the bus stop, taking great care that her bag of presents didn't get tossed around too much.

The doors of the arcade couldn't open fast enough and Raye angled sideways to get through them at her breakneck speed. One shoulder caught the edge of the door and it shook a bit on its track as it continued its journey away from its partner. Andrew barely had a moment to look up from the large amount of customers, mostly kids spending their early Christmas allowances, to see the glass doors swaying.

"Raye!" She was clutching her shoulder as she gently lowered the bags in her arms. Her hair was in disarray, her sweater tilted from where the bags had pulled it, and—was that her shoe near the potted plant by the door? Sweat poured from her face. He wondered if she was some kind of masochist to be wearing a thick sweater in the heat of the day.

"Andrew, I don't have much time. Get me a hamburger and a shake." He wasn't about to argue, or even waste time asking. Raye had a hunger in her eyes that said he was going to be the hamburger if he wasn't fast enough.

When he came out with her food, Raye had slid her hair back behind the flowered hair band again. Her sweater was straight on her frame and her shoe was on her once bare foot. He laid down the plate carefully, making sure not too much of himself stood between them.

In seconds, Raye choked down every bit of the sandwich. Andrew wrung his wrist, knowing he would have lost it if he had pulled it away any slower. She took a few deep gulps from the shake, her face turning red as she pulled the first drag of slow moving vanilla through the straw.

She set a big shopping bag on the counter. "Presents," she explained through gulps. He reached up and pulled them behind the counter, moving a small box out of the way so that it wouldn't fall.

A black eyebrow rose. "What's this?"

She reached for the box, but the counter was low and her arm was too short. Andrew stood to tell her when the box lurched forward into her open hand. They both stared at it. Raye met Andrew's surprised gaze. And, without further ado, she opened her palm and made to throw the box.

Magic just wasn't her thing.

Unfortunately, the box held tightly to her hand. She flapped her arm frantically but it was glued to her skin. Her other hand grabbed and tried to pull. Pain ripped through her hand as the skin stretched.

"Andrew!" He stared at her dumbly, just as surprised. "What is this _thing_?"

Magic really really wasn't her thing. She swallowed. A near empty stomach had put her on edge. And right now that edge was prickling the sides of her eyes. She was not going to cry. Instead, she huffed and put her energy into trying to throw down the stubborn box.

"Uh," he thought of the best way to explain. He took a few cautionary steps back, glad for the counter between them. He was pretty sure she would hit him with it once she found out it was a box of miracles.

Raye screamed and even Andrew could see the tiny sparkles of tears forming in her eyes. "I have to get back to work. I only have thirty minutes." She maneuvered the boxed hand around so she could read her watch. "Ten more minutes and I still have a bus to catch."

They both looked at the box, hoping maybe this time it would finally separate from her flesh. She pressed it into the counter, splayed out her fingers so only her palm was touching it, and raised her hand. The box came with it. She pounded her other fist into the counter. Then, grabbed her things and ran out the door. Somewhere, she yelled goodbye to him.

"Whoa."

Andrew didn't turn around. The other attendant stared at the wake left by the crazy woman who had super-glued a box to her hand.

"I can't imagine the man who can handle that one."

Andrew found himself shaking his head. Someone who could handle Raye? Now, _there_ was a miracle.

Thankfully, Jim didn't ask any questions when Raye returned and refused to bring her hand out from behind her back. He was actually quite pleased because she was a full thirty seconds early and he could go hide in his office. And do payroll... or sudoku.

Raye collapsed onto the glass counter by the cash register. The little buttons and broaches winked at her from inside. She blew a puff of air and they disappeared under the white fog. She pressed her hands into her head and felt the very sharp corner of the box hit her. She groaned.

The box itself was light. So light, in fact, that she could easily forget it was even attached. That is, until she actually tried to use her hand. Then it was quite noticeable.

"Last chance," she told it. She wished she still had the hammer behind the counter, then she'd actually be able to threaten the thing.

She set it on the counter, mimicking her same movements in the arcade. Her fingers stretched out above her palm, each little piece of skin was cool where it had been liberated from the box's grasp. Finally, she only had the teeniest part of her palm on the box. Pinching her eyes closed and breathing deeply, she lifted her hand away.

She couldn't feel anything. But the box was pretty light weight. One eye opened slowly. It looked around the room, as if gauging its own capability to see reality, then carefully it made its way to the counter. The other opened soon after to confirm. Raye was sure even the kiosk workers could hear her sigh of relief.

There, under the bright fluorescent lights, sat the box. Her head fell back behind her shoulders and she smiled. She stayed like that for a little while, simply drinking in the freedom she had gained. There was one less thing to worry about. She nodded.

"Alright, little box. What was so important that you had to come all the way to the mall?"

She hesitated. Realizing for one, she was really losing it to be talking to a box, and two, she wasn't sure if she wanted to touch it again. It seemed perfectly content on the counter. But it had been content on Andrew's counter too, until it latched onto her like a leech. A beautiful red velvet leech.

What was it going to do anyway? she asked herself. Suck up all her Christmas spirit? The poor thing would be dead in an hour.

With that thought to steady her, she pulled at the top and separated the sections. She looked into the box.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." She stared at the gold plaque proudly displaying the two spheres below it as miracles. There were two indentations where other miracles had been. She wondered just what had befallen those poor people who had taken them. This was just the sort of thing Chad would go crazy over. But she wasn't a dreamer like him. There were no such things as miracles.

She went to place the lid back on. It wasn't having it. Just as she lined up the corners, it popped off with a little gush of air. The lid flipped onto the counter. Raye bit her cheek, resolute to ignore all the magical nonsense. The lid was going on the box.

"This isn't negotiable," she told it. Raye grabbed the lid and roughly slammed it onto the bottom. She heard the crack of glass, and a small cloud of gray mist hissed out of the box as the lid slid into place.

Great, she thought. Now she'd broken one.

Her hands were still holding the top down, as if it would shoot off at any moment, when the box started to rock. It clattered loudly against the glass. Raye used both hands to hold it down. She had to be crazy because it felt warm. Really warm, in fact. She yelped, pulling her hands away before the skin was fused to the velvet. She was staring at the steam rising from her hands. There wasn't even a red mark on her pale skin.

The box continued to rock, rising slightly above the counter. Just as she was afraid the noise of it would bring her boss out, it rocketed into the far display case. Raye's heart stopped as time slowed.

The box sailed gracefully through the air toward its target. It rose above the curio cabinets and arched back down. The box touched the glass door and it bent easily under the pressure. It sunk in and shattered around the small box, but did nothing to slow its momentum. It was a miracle on a mission. And that mission was to take out as many china dolls as possible.

"Raye!" Chad came running in from the mall. He had only just returned from his lunch break to hear the crashing of glass. He ran to the counter first, glad to see she was safely behind it. But she didn't look safe at all. Her face was many shades lighter than usual and her eyes were uncharacteristically wide. Her hand was pressed over her open lips without care of the lipstick that stained her fingers.

He had never seen her like that. It took him a while to place just what emotion she was feeling. Fear_, _he realized. Absolute and complete fear.

Chad went cold. Raye was a strong, often stubborn, woman. She was hesitant at times and worried just as much as anyone else. But she was never afraid. She would never allow herself to be seen as weak because of silly things like fear and love. She had too much pride for those emotions.

He followed her gaze, having to know just what would scare her so much. He saw the shattered cabinet holding their small selection of china dolls. He shuffled across the store, drawn to the carnage. His mouth fell to the floor as he surveyed the damage up close. He pushed his bangs behind his ears, revealing his green eyes, just to prove to himself he wasn't seeing things. A broken arm, covered in green-and-white striped fabric, lay on the bottom of the case. He looked up to see half of a hollow skull. Its one glass eye stared sadly forward. The hair was shooting out in all directions, the broken roots grasping for purchase. Chad swallowed, unable to believe that only two dolls—still worth more than he could imagine—had been broken. The chests and legs were perfectly fine. The dresses, minus the arm, were a bed of glass shards but still in tact. Something caught his eye and he reached between the dolls. He winced as a glass shard poked into his wrist, but his hands wrapped around something plush. He was just pulling it out as Jim nearly bulldozed down the stockroom door in his haste.

And then time ran too fast for Raye. Before she really knew what was happening, Jim took in the broken cabinet and dolls, and what could only be the guilty person leaning over them. His face turned deep, deep red. Chad didn't even see the explosion about to occur as he was leaned into the cabinet. Raye wanted to yell for him to run, feeling like the damsel in the high tower as the dragon sneaks up behind her hero, but she was frozen by the absolute impossibility of everything that had just happened.

Magic was really really really really really _really_ not her thing.

Before she had a chance to breathe, Chad was led out of the store by his ear. Jim returned and growled out at her. She sprang into action, desperate not to be on the receiving end of his anger.

It wasn't until she had cleared away all the glass and placed the two dolls into a box labeled _Broken_ that her fear receded completely and she was finally able to think.

Chad had been fired. And it had been her fault.


	7. Chapter 7

A Pocketful of Miracles

By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

Chapter Seven

Darien whistled to himself as he strolled down the street, hands tucked into his coat pockets. It had been a particularly peculiar Christmas Eve. Between the lunatic Santa, Serena falling out of nowhere, and then her getting all cooky in the florist shop about a silly potted plant, Darien found himself in a very odd mood.

A very odd mood indeed.

One might even call it . . . merry.

Which made no sense. The morning had been nothing but pure annoyance while Andrew dragged him around to shop after shop, even that hateful bubblegum pink store, Victoria's Secret. He cringed just thinking about it. And Santa Claus and his little elf friend had definitely freaked Darien out a little. All things considered, Darien should have been cranky. He should have been hating carolers and ornaments and twinkling lights. He certainly shouldn't have been feeling this carefree joy. And yet he was.

Perhaps it was because he knew he had succeeded. Andrew had assigned him an impossible mission and Darien was going to come through. He was supposed to get a gift for Serena, and by darnit, she was getting her gift, and she was going to love it.  
Darien Shields had gone from Inept Gift Giver to Master of Presents.

He was going to give her the box of miracles.

Not that he thought there was anything actually magical or even special about the little glass baubles, but he knew that once Serena heard the story—Santa, elves, and all—she would be delighted. She would get all superstitious and wishful and think it was the greatest gift ever. She would probably tuck them under her pillow or something.

There was the problem of the one broken "miracle," the one Darien had dropped right before Serena's descent from heaven, or wherever. But, even then, his eminent genius had pulled through. Smile widening, he fingered the white glass marble—a _real_ marble this time—that he would use to replace the single missing miracle.

No one would ever have to know.

Except Andrew. But Darien was pretty sure he could blackmail him into silence.

He must have picked up on some Christmas music from a storefront as he walked, because all the sudden he realized he was whistling _Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow._

Imagine that. He glanced up at the sky, wondering if perhaps the miracles had done their proper job yet, but no—only clear blue skies greeted him overhead.

Like he thought. No magic here at all.

Reaching the arcade, he sauntered through the glass doors. The usual crowd was diminished on the holiday as the arcade neared closing hours. Only a handful of patrons were lingering in the café booths, and some teenagers banging away on the game machines near the back.

Still in his good mood, Darien took a minute to look around the arcade. For once, the sight of green tinsel and candy canes didn't bother him one little bit. He was looking forward to tonight's party. He was looking forward to Serena's face when she opened his gift.

Even thinking about it brought a peculiar warmth to his chest.

There it was again—that weird _merriment_ thing. What had gotten into him?

He heard a sudden yelp and glanced toward the café, just as Amy slipped off a ladder. Darien tensed, but quickly saw that Amy was not hurt—she'd been caught by some boy with brown hair.

"Huh," he muttered to himself, not sure if he was more relieved or curious. "I wonder who that is."

"Darien! I didn't expect you here already. Did you get a gift for you-know-who?"

He turned his attention to the counter, where Andrew was hanging ornaments on a small plastic tree. He meandered toward him, shrugging off his jacket.

"Did _I_ get a gift?" He snorted and threw his jacket over a stool. "Does this look like the face of a guy who would come back empty-handed?"

"Um . . . yes?"

"Oh, have a little faith."

"So? What did you get her?"

Darien could not keep the proud smile away as he sank onto the stool. "The miracles."

Andrew's eyes widened in an expression Darien couldn't quite make out. "Don't tell me that Santa gave you more of them."

"Nope. We're going to give her that box."

Andrew blinked. "Uh—"

"Now, I know what you're thinking," said Darien, holding up one hand while digging through his jacket pocket with the other. "You're thinking, 'What about the missing marble? The one that broke?' Well, think no more of it, because brilliant me has come up with a solution." He pulled the new foggy-white marble from his pocket. "A replacement. Really, this is even better than those dinky blown-glass things because you could _actually_ play marbles with it."

"Dude," said Andrew, shaking his head very seriously. "We can't give her those miracles."

Darien's grin stiffened, then slowly began to fade. "What do you mean?"

"They're _evil._"

"What?"

"I'm serious. They attacked Raye. You should have seen it. She was just sitting there at the counter, all innocent and stuff, eating her hamburger, and out of _nowhere_ that box just lunged at her and, like, _glued_ itself to her hand. It was freaky. Her hand might need to be amputated for all I know."

Darien gaped at his friend and gently set the marble down on the counter. "It attacked her?"

"Yes. I was right there when it happened."

"Well . . . where is she now?"

"She had to go back to work."

"But I thought you said—"

"The box was still stuck to her hand when she left. I'm not kidding, that thing is possessed."

"Great, so Raye has the box now? How are we supposed to give it to Serena if Raye has it?"

"Are you listening to me? We couldn't give it to Serena anyway! It would probably eat her alive! In her sleep! Or something really bad like that!"

Darien hunched over and thunked his forehead on the countertop a few times. He was sure Andrew was overreacting to whatever it was he'd seen, but that didn't change the fact that Raye now had the box of miracles. And he could not give them to Serena if Raye had them. He held up the marble. "Do you still have that label maker? Maybe we can just label this one a miracle and call it good."

"That's a horrible gift idea."

Sighing, Darien lifted his head, setting his chin on his forearm. "Well that's it. That's the only idea I had. Well, that and flowers."

"Oh, flowers! Now there's a nice idea. Why don't you go back to the mall and pick her up a nice potted plant or something?"

Darien squinted his eyes shut, misery and self-pity washing over him. "_Please_ don't make me go back there."

"Who's getting flowers?" said Mina, slinking onto the stool beside Darien.

"There you guys are!" said Andrew as Lita claimed the stool on Darien's other side. "Where have you been all this time?"

"Eavesdropping," Mina chirped, pointing toward the windows. They all swiveled to see Amy and the mystery boy sitting opposite each other in a booth, deep in conversation. "His name is Scott, he's afraid of heights, and he plays the guitar."

"Not to mention the fact that he's _gorgeous,_" added Lita, "which means we both pretty much hate Amy right now. Look how he's staring at her! A girl could get heatstroke from a gaze like that."

Darien risked a glance at Andrew, who looked mildly offended by being forgotten by two of his biggest admirers.

"It's the skirt," said Mina longingly. "When she was up on that ladder, even _I_ couldn't help checking out her legs in that skirt."

"Oookay," said Darien, shoving the marble back into his pocket. "Fascinating as this is, it sounds like I'm—" _shudder _"—going back to the mall."

"Were you guys talking about a gift for Serena?" said Mina, spinning back to face Darien and wiggling her eyebrows. "Because I know what you could get her."

"You do?"

"_Mina,_" said Lita, dropping her voice to a very stern warning. "Don't you dare."

"Mmmmhmmmmm. But . . ." Mina heaved a dramatic sigh. "Lita's right. I shouldn't say anything. Serena would never forgive me. Unless, of course, you actually did get it for her, in which case—"

"Mina!"

Humming innocently, Mina cast her eyes around the arcade. "You know what we're missing? Mistletoe."

"That's a good idea," said Andrew. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Serena's bringing some," said Darien, very quietly as Mina's batting eyelashes were making him uncomfortable. "I saw her buying it at the mall."

"Oh, _really?_" said Mina. "I wonder who she's hoping to use it on."

"Yeah, right. It's a huge mystery to us all," Darien grumbled, refusing to look at Andrew.

Mina looked at Darien not looking at Andrew, then cast a pleading glance at Lita. "_Please_ can I tell him? Pretty pretty please?"

"Mina, hush. Serena would kill you!"

Mina crossed her arms and huffed down on her stool.

Darien furrowed his brow, his curiosity officially piqued. "What? What is it?"

Mina tugged at one of her heart-shaped earrings and glowered at the mini-Christmas tree on the counter.

"What does she want?" said Darien, looking at Lita now, but Lita was staring resolutely at the exit sign. "Come on, I'm at a complete loss. You don't want her to _not_ have a present to open, do you?"

"What kind of friends do you think we are?" said Lita, straightening. "We brought gifts for her to open."

"Okay, but Andrew and I didn't."

"Technically," interrupted Andrew, "you didn't get anything for anybody."

"That's not the point. If you two know of something she would like, you should tell me." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "There's still time for me to go buy it before the mall closes."

"Oh, this kind of gift comes free of charge," said Mina, her mischievous grin returning.

"_Mina,_" Lita growled.

Mina scrunched up her face in an effort to keep from spilling her secret.

"We all want Serena to have the best Christmas ever, right?" Darien prodded. It seemed suddenly very important to know what gift Mina had in mind for the Meatball Head. "We want her to have everything her heart desires, don't we?"

"Oh my god," said Mina, clamping both hands over her mouth. "If you had any idea how spot-on you are—"

"All right, that's enough." Hopping off her stool, Lita grabbed Mina under her armpits and pulled her off her seat, dragging her toward the break room. "You need a time-out before you say something stupid and Serena hates you forever."

Mina's face had turned cherry pink with the effort to hold her tongue. Tears were forming at the corners of her squeezed-shut eyes.

"What if I _promised_ to get it for her?" said Darien, standing from his stool in his last effort to find out what could be _that_ important to Serena.

Even Lita paused, with Mina dangling in her arms. They both stared at Darien, then traded awkward glances with each other.

"Whatever it is," continued Darien, taking a hesitant step forward. "No matter what. I mean . . . as long as it's nothing illegal. Or dangerous. Which, most things are dangerous in the hands of Serena, but other than that . . ."

Mina gulped and cast a hopeful gaze up at Lita.

Biting down on her lip, Lita released Mina, letting her slump to the linoleum floor. "You would have to promise not to use this very valuable information in any way that could potentially hurt Serena—got it?"

"Promise," said Darien, placing a hand over his heart. "Nothing that will hurt her. I just . . . want to get her a gift. That's all."

"And you'll promise to give her what we say?" Mina said.

Darien hesitated, his imagination suggesting all sorts of random things—a diamond necklace? A Caribbean cruise? An elephant? But no, Mina had said it was something that wouldn't cost a dime.

Sucking in a deep breath, he nodded. Once. With feeling. "I promise."

"Well . . ." said Lita, holding Mina's stare. She was clearly unconvinced. Clearly afraid. And yet, clearly tempted. Finally, she shrugged.

Beaming, Mina stood and clasped her hands in front of her heart. "It's simple, Darien. She wants you!"


	8. Chapter 8

A Pocketful of Miracles

By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

Chapter Eight

Amy's eyes were glued to her fingers, which rested innocently on the tabletop. It was not her fingers themselves that had her attention. Nor her short, square nails, which would have to be cut as soon as she started her medical degree. Nor was she interested in the coffee stain beneath her pinky.

It was Scott's hand resting right beside hers that took up all of her thoughts. It was so much bigger than hers. His skin was a little tanned – not much, but enough to offset her own milky complexion. She watched how his hand inched closer to her fingers during their conversation, then disappeared when he gestured to make a point. Then it would return again, occasionally brushing her skin and shooting electric sparks right to her heart.

And even while it felt like she was one hundred percent focused on this tiny little part of him, she seemed to be hyper-aware of lots of other features – his casual posture, his charming laugh, and the occasional flick of his head to sweep his fringe from his eyes.

As if all this wasn't enough to overload her senses, their conversation was putting Amy's head into a spin. They were talking about books. _Books. _Apparently, guys in bands also read. Widely, in fact. It was a topic that Amy knew plenty about, and was thankfully never lost for words or opinions. When they had exhausted the subject of their favorite novels, they would talk about authors, or bookstores, or the latest installment in a good series.

Amy had never felt anything like it before. To be so comfortable with someone.

To spark.

Wasn't that what everyone called it? The spark? When everything just clicked perfectly?

The Christmas lights were now plastered around the arcade walls, flashing on and off with fake holiday spirit, though by this stage Amy had forgotten all about them. She was vaguely aware that Darien had come in, although her mind was mostly on the fall that had landed her in Scott's arms.

Also, she'd noticed with some disdain that Mina was now wearing her "matchmaking earrings" – a pair of dangling hearts that she'd acquired during Valentine's Day a few years before. Whenever Mina was in a Cupid mood, she'd dig into her purse and swap her pearls for the hearts. Amy had learnt long ago to watch out when Mina was wearing the matchmaking earrings.

Besides these small observations, Amy had completely dismissed the world around her. Everything now centered on the boy sitting opposite her, with the quirky smile and faded jeans.

"So what do you think?"

Amy blinked several times, trying to tear her attention away from his hand, which was now touching hers again, and back to the conversation. They had been talking about the library, and the competition…

"What, now?" she said.

Scott shrugged. "Sure. I've still got a while to kill. The library's not far from here, right?"

Amy nodded. It was a well-worn path between the arcade and the library. At least, for her it was. "I guess so."

She glanced back over her shoulder at Lita, Andrew, and Mina. All three were in deep discussion over the counter. They looked rather serious. Darien was nowhere to be seen – Amy had no idea when he'd left. She was surprised to find the rest of the arcade fairly empty. When she checked the clock above the milkshake machine, she realized much more time had passed than she'd originally thought.

"How can it be so late already?" she said.

She turned back to find that charming smile on Scott's face – the one that had developed an ability to make her heart jump. "A good conversation often eats time," he said.

Amy got up from the table. "That's an interesting way of putting it."

"It's a line from one of my songs," Scott said, following suit. He trailed after her as she headed towards the door. "You should come to one of my gigs sometime."

Amy pressed her lips together. "Oh… I don't know. Gigs aren't really my thing."

She glanced sideways at Scott as they passed the game machines. He was frowning at the ground. "Really?"

She shrugged. "Sorry."

"Which ones have you been to? Maybe it's the places you're going."

"Oh – I haven't actually been to a gig."

She wasn't sure what his reaction would be to her confession, but she certainly wasn't expecting him to laugh. "How can you say you don't like gigs if you've never been to one?" he said. Before she could reply, he glanced back at the counter "Aren't you going to say goodbye to your friends?"

Amy threw one last look over her shoulder, but her friends hadn't even noticed her get up, and she didn't want to disturb them – not when Mina was wearing those earrings. "We'll be back soon enough." When Scott didn't look convinced, she nudged him playfully. "If we interrupt, they might ask us to help out with more decorations."

"Hmm, you're right. We should definitely leave them to their own devices." Scott nudged her back and wandered out of the automatic doors, heading down the footpath. Amy walked half a step behind him, just to appreciate his presence without being obvious. He had his hands in his jeans pockets, just casually, without any sign of discomfort. He didn't seem to have an even stride; for a musician, there was little rhythm in his step. And he didn't walk straight, either. He meandered, his attention on the shop windows as they passed boutiques and take-out franchises.

Amy liked his daydream attitude. Most of the time her mind was on other things, too. The girls would talk about boys or celebrity gossip or clothes, and Amy would be thinking about other things. Not always schoolwork, but sometimes about the future, or something she'd just read, or even just what she'd be cooking for dinner. The girls had learnt long ago that they didn't need to ask her what was wrong. Nothing was wrong. She just got lost in thoughts occasionally.

Scott seemed to get lost in thoughts, too, and she appreciated it. She was fond of the idea that he was like her. That he understood. Never in her life did she ever think she'd find someone who would understand.

The weather was still warm enough not to need any extra clothing. People bustled past in light jackets, unconcerned with the breeze. There were no heads down or coats and scarves pulled across to avoid the chill. Amy's heart sank a little – she didn't want to see poor Serena's face when she realized she wouldn't be getting her snowy Christmas, after all.

Scott slowed, so she could keep pace with him. "We're going to wipe out the competition," he said with a grin. "No pair on the planet will have borrowed more books than us together."

"I never thought I'd find someone to enter this competition with," Amy said. "My mom's too busy to borrow books from the library, let alone read them."

"I guess it's lucky my car broke down then, huh?"

Or a miracle.

Amy dismissed the thought before it had even properly formed in her mind. Marbles were _not_ miracles.

Scott reached around her waist and placed his hand on her hip, pulling her against him briefly, as though in an almost-hug. "I've got to remember to thank the guy that gave me a dodgy oil check. And the fact that my cell phone's out of battery."

Before Amy could work out whether his action was appropriate or not for their particular circumstance, he pulled his arm away again. She missed it immediately. Her face flushed, and her heart hammered against her ribcage.

It didn't seem to matter that they'd just met. She liked his arm around her. She liked the thought of holding his hand. She liked the closeness that came with a relationship, even though she had nothing to compare it to.

She was feeling bold. Reckless. Daring.

She brushed her hand against Scott's. It could have easily been an accident. She could blame it on his meandering path. It didn't have to mean anything.

But it did. He took the hint.

Just lightly, as though gauging her reaction, he trailed his fingers against her palm. She inhaled in surprise, then caught herself, and stretched her fingers out to meet his.

He took her hand.

His fingers laced through hers, so comfortably, so perfectly. It was easy. Easy and crazy. Who held hands with a stranger? She was mad for acting so rashly.

And yet she didn't care. Now, finally, she understood the real feeling of being "giddy." It was a mixture of giggly and dizzy and hysteria all rolled into one. She wanted to burst into fits of laughter while at the same time fall into a trembling, anxious mess. It was bizarre.

And it was perfect. Just perfect. Everything. The grey sky overhead, and the chilly wind, and the harried expressions of the people around her finishing their Christmas shopping – it was all part of her perfect world.

Except…

Except what would happen when Scott's cousin came to pick him up, and take him upstate? What happened to when he returned home, which was very far away from here? What happened when they both went to college next year in different states?

What kind of "relationship" lasted long distance when they'd only met for a day?

Her breath caught in her chest. Her palm began to sweat against Scott's hand, and her stomach churned.

She wanted Scott around for the Christmas party. And Christmas. And New Year. And for some time after that, too. She wanted Scott to stay.

But Scott would not stay. Not for a girl he'd known for a few hours. That was crazy. Even thinking about it made her feel insane.

It was just… she had never connected with someone so deeply. Never had she felt so comfortable with another person – especially a boy. How long would it be before it happened again? Another seventeen years? If ever at all?

She pulled her hand from Scott's. He stopped and turned to her, his brow creasing. "What's wrong?"

Amy fixed her eyes on a spot on the footpath before him. Her mouth was dry; her throat parched. "Maybe this is a bad idea." Her voice was a tinge higher than normal.

Scott's frown deepened. "What? Why?" He glanced behind him. "We're almost there. Isn't that the library across the road?"

A wry smile crossed Amy's face, although she still didn't lift her eyes to his. "What's the point? Why bother going? You're not from this library. They probably can't validate your borrowing history, anyway."

"Sure they can. They can just call up my library."

"What's the point?"

"You said that already." Scott moved towards her. "Look, Amy, what's going on?"

Amy narrowed her eyes at a crack in the pavement. She'd finally found the perfect guy, and he lived nowhere near her. What kind of miracle was that supposed to be? It sounded more like the universe was playing a sick joke.

She took a step back. Away from him. Her shoulders rose to give a half-hearted shrug. "It seems to be a bit of a waste of time, doesn't it? Going to all this trouble, getting excited over nothing. What are we really going to get out of it, anyway?"

"Wasn't the prize a hundred dollars worth of free books? Each?"

A breathy, bitter laugh passed Amy's lips. "I didn't mean the competition. I mean this." She gestured to the space between him and her. "What are we even doing here?"

Scott hesitated. "I thought we were going to the library?"

Either he was playing stupid, or he was just really stupid. Amy was unimpressed on both counts. She took another step backward. "I'm heading back to the arcade." She waved her hand at the other shops around them. "There's plenty for you to do here while you're waiting for your cousin."

She turned to leave, but Scott grabbed her wrist. "Am I missing something extremely important here?"

Amy spun back to him, irritated now. "Yes. You are."

He released her. "Look. I thought we were having fun." He studied her. "Weren't we?"

She didn't answer.

He tilted his head, trying to catch her eyes, but she would not look at him. "What's going on in that mind of yours?"

And suddenly, she felt like the one who was stupid. The ignorant fool that was busy planning her future, while the boy just wanted to have _fun_.

The notion hit her so hard it took the wind from her lungs and caused tears to spring to her eyes. What kind of clingy person had she become in such a short space of time?

She didn't want to be here anymore. She didn't want to be anywhere near the library, or Scott, or any boys, for that matter. She could curl up with her books again, and happily absorb herself in a world that didn't require actual emotional input.

So she did what she always did during uncomfortable social situations. Her get-out-of-jail-free card. "I'm not feeling very well," she said, backing away, out of Scott's reach. "I'd better head off." Her throat was very tight – she was having trouble swallowing. "Um… it was nice meeting you. Thanks for your help." The words were generic – she used them often when departing in her usual haste to escape home, or back to her friends.

Scott watched her leave, his face the picture of bewilderment. "Amy…"

"Bye!" Amy pivoted on her heel and stalked away, pushing through the Christmas shoppers and heading back to the arcade, leaving Scott on the sidewalk, in the streets of a stranger's city.


	9. Chapter 9

A Pocketful of Miracles

By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

Chapter Nine

Chad sighed and slumped in his seat. His thigh was getting a cramp from the too-small seat but he didn't care. He leaned in to press his forehead against the plastic pole. His bangs fell forward, covering his eyes as the ground swam beneath him. He sighed again, his shoulders raising with the inward breath then flopping down as he exhaled. Life sucked.

And he wasn't really a depressed sort of guy. He had a much larger share of good days than bad ones, but today was just plain rotten. His attitude wouldn't have been half so bad if he hadn't spent the last two hours walking through a mall completely populated with couples. Really. First, he gets fired and then Fate decides it would be a great joke to remind him that he wouldn't be spending the rest of the holidays with Raye.

There were all kinds of couples he had seen. An elderly couple walked with their canes in perfect unison, little bags from the designer toy store hanging from their wrists. A married couple arm-in-arm corralled their children. Teenagers with googly eyes and silly grins carefully reached between them to hold hands. Two men flirting over a cup of coffee, discretely touched their calves beneath the high-top table. Twenty-somethings in tattoos with spiked hair in fifteen different colors and matching tongue and eyebrow rings. He'd even passed the Suds 'n' Bubbles, a dog salon, and seen a pair of dogs dressed as Mr. and Mrs. Claus.

_Ugh_.

And just what would happen if, while he was gone, a young handsome man came into the shop and swept Raye off of her feet? Chad's heart fluttered. Flakes of gold fell from the pole into his hair as he wrung his hand around it. His teeth grated against each other as his blood pressure rose.

Most people thought he was carefree, lazy, and mellow. And he was, for the most part. But when it was something important—like cookies 'n' cream ice cream or true love—he was anything but. No man was going to stand in the way of his love. He would kidnap Raye if he had to just to be sure she would always be his.

His anger deflated and he fell against the cold plastic neck. He hardly wanted to force Raye into loving him. It was why he had been so patient. He wanted her to love him, not out of pity, but out of genuine feeling. But, though he was loathe to think about it, it appeared that she was less and less interested in him. She hadn't said anything or even looked at him after he was fired. Granted, she was likely as shocked as he was. And he had been glad to take the heat for her, proud to play the hero card for his one and only leading lady. But just where had that gotten him? He certainly wouldn't be able to do it again.

He groaned and moved his hand to press it against his face. It swept over something velvet. He gripped it and pulled the red box out of his pocket. He looked at it like it would tell him what it had been doing sitting in the middle of the wreckage of the china dolls. His ear burned a bit from the memory.

He pressed the box into his palm and pulled the top off. The whole box disappeared in a wink and a small ball popped out onto the floor and went rolling away into the crowd. He hadn't even had a second to see what was inside. He had been hoping maybe it was a piece of candy or a new watch or the cure for cancer or some other similar miracle.

Another sigh was hitching his shoulders when he heard someone fall onto the lion beside him.

"Hey," Serena said softly, sounding just as depressed as he was. She sat side-saddle so that she faced him

"Hey," he answered equally as cheerful.

"Bad day?"

Chad chuckled. It was not a happy sound. "I got fired."

Serena's mouth fell open. Chad hadn't bothered to look at her but he could hear her actions. Her jaw snapped as it fell open. There was a lurch and then the sound of a children's song playing from a music box. Happy, unlike the two of them.

"That's terrible!" The lion rose out of the ground as his unicorn sunk into it. "What are you going to do?"

He shrugged. "Figure it out, I suppose." He began his ascent as she was going down. He decided to take a peek through his shoulder-length hair at her. Her eyes and cheeks were tinged red and a frown was deeply rooted on her lips. It pulled at her forehead. "What's got you so glum?"

She blew air out the side of her mouth. Her bangs fluttered. "Darien's buying a gift for a _girl_."

"Darien's the guy who picks on you, right?" Chad had to reach into his memory. He tended to tune out whenever Raye talked about other guys. Unless she talked about them in an attractive sense. Then he was quick to point out their flaws or make up some for them. It had kept her from drooling over Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt at least.

Serena nodded.

"But you like him anyway?" Chad guessed and the blush that covered her chapped cheeks spoke volumes.

"You, too," she said by way of taking the attention off of her.

Chad smiled and nodded. "Yeah, me too. Raye isn't all that bad though."

Serena snorted, a teeny smile lifting her lips. "Remember the time she put chili powder in your barbeque sandwich?"

Chad cringed. That had been quite a surprise. Raye's grandpa had thought it hilarious until he was out a full gallon of milk.

"Or that time she asked you to sweep the steps in the rain?"

He shook his head. A laugh bubbled to the surface.

"Or when she asked you to run all the way to the other side of town for an instant organic potato packet knowing that the store down the street sold them."

His head flew up. "She _knew_?" He had spent an entire day hunting down those stupid little flakes. He had spent numerous quarters calling and asking, over and over, again until he had finally found the exact thing she was looking for. At least it hadn't been raining at the time—it had been _snowing_.

She laughed, nearly falling off her lion. "Oh, yes, she knew."

Serena expected him to get angry, but his lips pulled into a grin. And she smiled, too. Only someone who loved Raye completely could still laugh at all the mean things she had done to him. She thought of Darien and all the things he had ever said. Her heart warmed her even when the words stung. And she knew that was how Chad felt too. Even if it was negative attention, it was still attention nonetheless.

"We're both hopeless you know." They shared a knowing smile.

"Absolutely."

They clasped hands between their animals. Hers in fuzzy mittens, his flecked in gold. Two people on the same crazy journey to love.

And also at the end of their carousel ride. The attendant, a boy who looked about thirteen, coughed loudly into his hand. A band of curious children stood behind him.

"Sir, Ma'am, the ride is over. If you would please exit to the right of the carousel."

Chad and Serena jumped. They laughed a little, their cheeks rosy from embarrassment. They left the food court and headed deeper into the mall, looking every bit the awkward teenage couple.

From across the food court, Raye could see them laughing at each other as they strolled passed a jewelry kiosk. A bitter taste filled her mouth watching them, and she had to remind herself that they were both her friends. She knew them both very well. She had known Chad for four years when her grandpa dragged him home in the rain. He had been sleeping in a subway tunnel for a few months. Serena she had known for much longer, though they hadn't become good friends until after Raye's mother died. She knew what their favorite colors, foods, and animals were. She knew they were both idealists and happy-go-lucky kind of people. She knew that Serena was completely in love with Darien—would have known even if the blonde hadn't come out and told them. And Chad had made it clear from the beginning he was in love with her.

But even knowing that neither of them had any interest for the other, she could not stop the anger that welled inside of her. How _dare_ she, Raye seethed. She took some deep breaths and closed her eyes. There was no calm center for her to focus on. Her heart writhed in fierce betrayal. Her hands were tight fists, the dry skin breaking at her knuckles. Jealousy consumed her.

"Uh." The clerk behind her wasn't sure if he wanted to disturb her. Even with her back turned, he could see how tense her muscles were. He almost swore the air around her was warmer than the rest of the office. She looked like a snake about to strike, and if she had had a tail he could promise that it would have been rattling right then.

"Ma'am?" He squeaked when she rounded on him. He huddled behind the brown paper bag, holding it in front of him as some kind of shield. He had only caught a glimpse of her piercing eyes as she spun, but that had been enough to strike terror in his soul.

Raye yanked the bag from his grasp and stomped out into the mall. The glass door swung on its hinges as she exited. The man cringed as it fell back against the stoppers. The glass rattled and the hinges creaked. The air was chill after she had left, but he suddenly found it ten times easier to breath.

"Stop being stupid," Raye whispered to herself, barely able to refrain from screaming. She tried to ignore the way the hallway, brimming with shoppers, parted seamlessly for her. The desk clerk's utterly terrified expression came to mind. But she was trying her best to rein in her temper. Her hands were itching to do something destructive. She gritted her teeth.

The antique store came into view in its corner tucked away from the main drag. The bag crunched under her grip. It had been enough that the china dolls were destroyed. Raye swerved right just before the store. She slid her card through the reader and swung open the door. A long hallway greeted her. The drywall had been partially painted white, but she had no interest in it as she walked between the stores. The hallway deadended into another and that one ran behind all the shops on her corner of the mall. Along its length were various doors to the stockrooms of the different stores.

Raye came to the T but didn't stop. She channeled her anger and let both hands fly out in front of her as she slammed into the wall. It probably wasn't the best way to let loose her anger. And she felt sorry for the dents left in the wall. But her anger was severely dampened.

"This is something Lita would do," she admitted to the drywall. She sighed, pressing her hand into her bangs. She turned and slid down the wall until her bottom met the floor. Her shoulders started to shake.

"Some Christmas miracle," she growled. A small part of her had believed that something amazing was going to happen. Instead, she got a china doll fiasco and raging jealousy over a guy she wasn't even interested in. She felt cold tears dripping down her cheeks. They gently fell down her high cheekbones, traced the corners of her mouth, collected at her pointed chin, and dripped into her lap. She dabbed at them, hoping her mascara wasn't running. She was _not_ going to explain her crying to _anyone_.

Mostly because she didn't understand it herself. But she had an inkling it had nothing to do with the broken china dolls.

She had never felt jealous, never had a reason to, before. Chad had never shown any interest in anyone else ever. Not that he was showing interest now. But at the moment, reason didn't matter. It didn't matter that it was impossible for Serena to like Chad or Chad to like her. The only thing she could feel was her blood boiling as she closed her eyes and pictured them together. Smiling with secret knowledge. Quite nearly holding hands.

But why would she care? She frowned. She shook her head, unwilling to hear the answer.

She cracked her knuckles, her joints stiff. Her hands dug into her bangs, the fingertips touching the silk folds of the flower on her head band. She sniffled as the tears slowed. Raye exhaled, swallowing down the stale saliva that had pooled in her mouth. She rubbed her nose. Her fingers tapped the corners of her eyes as she looked up into the fluorescent lights. She took a few more deep breaths, focusing on her breathing and desperately trying not to picture anything in her mind.

It was foolish to get this worked up over Chad, she thought. Raye shook her head loose of any more tears and thoughts and worries. Jim would start to wonder where she was if she took any longer. She licked her lips and stood. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand one last time. The bag hung loose at her thigh.

Christmas music greeted her as she stepped into the shop. For a moment, she was happy for its cheeriness. It helped dry the last bits of tears. She breathed it in, let it wrap around her, and then expelled all the bad in her with the air in her lungs. She wasn't going to let the world bother her. She had a store to run.


	10. Chapter 10

A Pocketful of Miracles

By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

Chapter Ten

Darien leaned against the building's stone façade, staring up at the crisp sky, gorgeous blue, a few pale gray clouds lingering above the city streets. The sun was setting. The dusk was growing cold, finally beginning to feel like winter, to the point where his breath was dissipating in little puffs of steam.

His thoughts were a mess. They were comprised of an eclectic, rambling conversation, snippets of emotions, flashes of memory, little reminders ringing off in his head like a persistent alarm clock. _Tomorrow is Christmas. Andrew's party begins in less than an hour. I'm supposed to go back to the mall and get a present for Serena._

_Serena likes me. _

_No. That can't be right. Serena _hates _me._

Mina and Lita were mistaken. Or confused. Or maybe a little insane. All possibilities were more believable than Serena having a crush on him, which was . . . was . . .

He shut his eyes and stretched his thoughts back to every memory he could piece together. Had she dropped any hints? Had she given any clues? A little smile here, a hint of a blush there, disappointed tears in her eyes, hidden meanings in her words—anything? He couldn't think. Couldn't remember. He'd always been so certain of their standing.

Tease, mock, laugh. Thrust, parry, dodge. An ongoing battle. Enemies to the last. How could he have been wrong?

More importantly, how could he have been so _stupid_ to promise Mina he would give Serena the gift she suggested? Namely, himself. He'd promised. He didn't like to go back on his word. He'd been willing to get her an elephant, for heaven's sake. But he couldn't give Serena what she wanted if she wanted _him._ He didn't even know what that meant. Did Mina expect him to ask Serena on a date? To be her boyfriend? To give her a kiss under mistletoe?

The thought brought on the one flicker of emotion he was trying his best to suppress. Something that had stirred in him when he'd seen her in the florist, clutching that bunch of mistletoe, staring dreamily into space with slightly puckered lips. Dreaming of Andrew? Or . . . ?

His heart pitter-pattered. He licked his lips, then started upon realizing he'd done so.

"Stupid!" He smacked his head back against the wall, flinching as pain burst at the back of his skull. He cursed and rubbed at his scalp—but at least it distracted him from the very uncomfortable, unreal, _unwanted_ fantasy.

"Darien?"

Squinting one eye open, he saw Amy standing on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around herself to ward off the approaching chill. He grunted a greeting.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Giving myself a concussion." He dropped his gaze to the sidewalk and waited for her to ask what was wrong, why he was standing alone on Christmas Eve mere feet away from the arcade's comforts, why he was beating his head against a building.

She didn't. Instead, after a beat of silence, she said, "I see," and moved to skirt around him.

Brow furrowing, he looked up at her retreating back. "Amy? Are you all right?"

She stalled and slowly pivoted on her feet. Her gaze was low and he noticed a redness on her cheeks that didn't seem to be from the wind. He wondered if she'd been crying . . . which was about the time he recalled the mystery boy.

He watched her inhale a deep breath before meeting his gaze and trying to smile. Not really trying though. "I'm not accustomed to feeling stupid," she said, "but at this moment I feel purely idiotic."

He wanted to say, _Ho boy, do I know what you mean. _He wanted to say, _Let me tell you a little something about idiocy. _He really wanted to say, _Not to change the subject, but you wouldn't happen to know anything about Serena's alleged crush on me, would you?_

He swallowed his wants, tried to look as sympathetic as possible, and quietly asked, "What happened with the boy?"

Amy's shoulders slumped immediately and she came to stand beside him, pressing her back into the stone wall. "We were going to go to the library together, but before we got there, I . . . panicked. And left. And now I'm here and he's . . . not."

She shivered and tightened her arms around herself. Darien wished he had a jacket to give her, but he'd left it inside.

"You panicked?"

"Yes. I don't know how else to describe it."

He watched her keen blue eyes focusing on passersby as they breezed along the sidewalk, until he noticed a shimmering. She blinked the tear away, but already feeling guilty for having seen it, Darien dropped his gaze.

"I really liked him," she said, so quietly he barely heard. "And I think he really liked me. He was . . . interesting. And smart. And . . ."

"Gorgeous?"

He saw her whip her head around to look at him.

"Lita's word, not mine."

After a moment, Amy turned away again and pressed herself further into the wall, as if trying to melt into the stone. "But what's the point of really like somebody if they're only going to leave? He lives so far away. We'll probably never see each other again, so why even bother getting to know each other? Why bother _liking _each other when it will only hurt that much more in the end? It doesn't make sense, does it?"

"I-I don't know."

"Of course it doesn't make sense. It's completely irrational, which is why it was a good thing for me to walk away. It was smart to break it off early. It was the right thing to do."

He felt her growing tense beside him, shoulder bunching up with all her rationalizations.

"But?" he prompted.

"But . . . but." She sighed. "But it's only been ten minutes and I _miss_ him." Groaning, she pushed herself away from the wall, arms flinging out to the side as she spun to face Darien. "Which only proves my point. If I can't stand to be parted for a few minutes, how would I ever survive a long-distance relationship?"

Darien waited for her to keep talking, for her to answer her own question, but as he stared into her eyes, staring right back at him, he jolted with the realization that she was actually waiting for an answer.

He cleared his throat and nodded, thoughtfully. "Well, um, you're right. Clearly."

"I know I'm right. It would be a huge mistake to spend any more time with him."

"Although . . ." Darien thrust his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Not that I have any experience with these things, and I'm sure long-distance relationships are really hard, but . . . at least if you're in a long-distance relationship you know that you'll eventually see them again. Unlike right now, when you're missing him because you're convinced you'll never see him again. It just seems like it would be different. I guess. But I don't really know."

Her gaze grew intense as she considered his words. He could see her imagination churning, trying to imagine what it would be like to be missing that boy right now, but also _knowing_ that she would still see him again. Eventually. Her eyes softened as she let her stare drift to the blank wall over Darien's shoulders.

He saw her gulp. He saw her jaw tremble before she forced it still. "I am such an idiot," she whispered.

"Oh, no. Amy, I'm sure you were right before. You did the best thing, for both of you. With all that uncertainty, all the irrationality . . . who wouldn't panic?"

"Mina would say that the uncertainties and the irrationalities are the best part of falling in love." Her eyes snapped back to Darien. "Not that I'm in love with him!"

"Of course not."

"Because I just met him. Today. A few hours ago."

"Right. I know."

"And a person doesn't fall in love that fast. It isn't ration—possible."

Darien squeezed his mouth shut, realizing that no matter how much he agreed with her, she was still going to go on trying to convince him.

"I guess it doesn't matter now, though. I ran away from him. I messed things up. But . . . yes. I'm sure it was for the best. It would have taken a miracle to keep us together, in the long run. Yes. Much better to—"

Darien cursed, pushing himself from the wall. The mention of miracles had reminded him of the very important mission he had thus far failed to complete. Amy blinked up at him. "Sorry, I just remembered, I was supposed to go back to the mall. Andrew asked me to get a gift. For the party tonight. For . . . Serena." The name felt peculiar, as if it were the first time he'd ever said it.

Before Mina's declaration, she'd always been Meatball Head. Now, she was . . . _Serena._

"Oh. Yes, it is getting late."

Darien squinted up at the sky again, growing darker by the second. "The problem is, I still don't know what I'm going to get her."

Amy followed his look, craning her neck back. "Too bad you can't make it snow. She's been so disappointed with all these weather reports."

Darien grunted. "Yeah, that one already crossed my mind." He peered at Amy through the corner of his eye, wondering if she would dare to make such a brazen suggestion as Mina had, if she would even hint at Serena's alleged feelings. But there was no suggestion, no hint. Amy was a much better secret keeper.

They said goodbye and went separate ways, Amy seeking warmth and friendship in the arcade, Darien heading back to the mall. This time he took the bus, more concerned with time as Christmas Eve crawled toward evening.

The ride went by in a blur as he stood with his hand on the railing over his head, staring past the other passengers and toward the darkening streets. Lights of all colors flickered on the storefronts, trees wrapped in big red ribbons, wreaths bedecking all the doors. They passed a group of carolers on a corner, and for a moment Darien felt that tinge of merriment he'd sensed earlier that day.

A feeling of Christmas joy.

A feeling of goodwill to all.

A sense that a miracle could happen at any moment.

He tried to shake the feeling away, but it wouldn't leave, despite the turmoil that persisted in his thoughts. He still did not know what he was going to do about Serena. He would buy her a potted plant, he supposed, and figure out how to handle Mina's declaration later.

Of course, he told himself that he wouldn't do anything with the newfound information. He couldn't tease her about it, he knew that much. He wouldn't destroy Mina's and Lita's trust in him by blabbing about it, either. Serena never had to know that he knew. He would just go on like nothing had happened and eventually Serena would get over her silly crush and that would be that.

Making that decision had the uncanny effect of making Darien feel even more uncertain about it all.

Uncertain and irrational. The best parts of falling in love.

He shook the thought away as the bus stopped right in front of the mall. He exited along with half the riders—what _was_ it with people procrastinating during this season?—and took a moment to steal himself before entering the shopping metropolis. He made a mental map of the mall, trying to recall where that florist had been and what the most direct route would be.

Squaring his shoulders, he marched toward the giant glass doors.

"Mom, look! This marble is stuck to me!"

Fear tingling along his spin, Darien spun toward the voice and spotted a little girl in a plaid dress ferociously shaking her hand. A foggy white glass ball was stuck to her fingers, as if superglued in place.

"Where did you get that?" her mother asked, kneeling before her and examining the ball. A gentle tug proved that the ball was immoveable. Darien felt his stomach sink, recalling Andrew's warnings about demon-possessed marbles attacking Raye or whatever it was he'd been rambling about.

"I found it by the carousel. It was following me."

"Sweetie, what did I tell you about picking things up off the ground? You don't know where this thing has—"

Darien ran forward and snatched the miracle away. It unglued itself promptly from the girl's fingertips. "Thank you!" he said, louder than was necessary. "I, uh . . . I lost this, back in the mall, and I've been looking all over for it. It means a lot to me. Very, uh, sentimental . . . uh, thanks again!" He backed away, grinning like a maniac and keeping the miracle firmly cupped between both palms, not allowing it a hint of freedom.

Before the girl or her mother could protest, he turned back toward the mall, heart beating horrifically fast. The miracle seemed to be growing warm, warmer than mere glass should.

Maybe Andrew was right. Maybe these things were evil.

But now he didn't know what to do with it. He looked around for someplace safe to stash it. A garbage can? But it would probably get broken in there, and Darien did _not_ want to find out what other "miracles" this thing might have in store, after witnessing Serena's near-death experience.

The miracle, though, didn't give him a chance to decide. As he desperately scanned the planter boxes and storefronts for a safe hiding spot, the miracle managed to pry its way out of his grip and throw itself toward the doors.

Darien yelled and lunged for it. Life returned to slow-motion for the second time that day, as he reached for the little glass ball, watched it slip through his fingers and sink slowly, slowly toward the pavement.

Heart in throat, Darien fell to his knees, hand outstretched in vain, as glass collided with concrete.

_Clink. Clinkity clink clink._

Mouth agape, Darien stared at the little glass ball that did not break. Gradually the world began to turn again, life returning to the shoppers all ignorant of the crazy guy on his knees, watching as his marble rolled away from him.

He was too stunned to move. Too disbelieving. Too suspicious—how could that tiny, fragile little ball _not_ have broken?

It rolled and rolled and rolled on a direct path toward the mall's entrance. No one else noticed it. No one else cared.

Darien was just finding his breath again when he saw the yellow galoshes in the haze of his vision. He followed the boots up the legs, past the fluffy heavy coat, up to the cheery face of an angel as she bobbed out of the mall doors, shopping bags in one hand, ice cream cone in the other.

His gaze traced all the way back down to the galoshes and the little rolling ball, the galoshes, the ball, the galoshes—

"Serena! Look where you're—"

Her foot landed square on the miracle. It whisked out from under her, pulling her foot along with it. She screamed, toppled backward, dropped both the bags and the ice cream.

The glass ball shattered, releasing a tiny puff of smoke that nobody noticed.

"Serena!" He launched himself toward her, the world spinning around them as he knelt at her side. He reached for her face, gently lifting her head off the pavement. "Serena, look at me. Are you all right?"

She groaned, her pink face squinting against the pain, and peered up through her lashes. "Wha—Dar—?"

"Hold still," he ordered, feeling around the back of her head for signs of blood, but his hand came away dry. "You might have a concussion. We should get you to a hospital. We should—"

"_Darien._" His name was barely whispered, and yet the urgency in her breathless tone made him pause. Her eyes, wide and glittering, were turned to the sky. "It's snowing."

"Oh lord," he murmured as a shiver cursed through him. "You're having hallucinations."

"No. _Look,_" she said, lips curving upward in childish delight.

A tiny feather of a snowflake landed on Serena's nose. She crossed her eyes to look at it even as it melted from the heat of her skin.

Mouth running dry, Darien peeled his eyes from her and looked.


	11. Chapter 11

A Pocketful of Miracles

By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

Chapter Eleven

The smell of baking cookies hit Amy's senses the moment she stepped into the arcade. She inhaled deeply, her mouth already watering.

The customers had left by this stage, and Andrew was shutting down the game machines. He glanced up and waved when he saw her. "Come in, come in! I've closed early so I could finish setting up. Mina and Lita have gone home to change."

Amy's eyes swept through the arcade. The main lights had been switched off, and now the blinking fairy lights illuminated the room in reds and blues and greens. The Christmas tree was crammed full of decorations, tinsel and candy canes. Carols continued to crackle over the speaker – the same ones that had been playing all day. The song had returned to Deck the Halls.

"Can you at least change the CD?" Amy said, taking her usual swivel chair at the counter.

Andrew chuckled, switching off the last machine and untying his apron. "It's the only Christmas one I own. Next year I'll buy a new one, okay?"

He wandered over and took a seat beside her, watching as she swung absently on her stool. Side to side. Side to side. Staring at the counter, her eyes glazed, unblinking.

Not at all like Amy.

Andrew waved a hand in front of her face. "You still in there?"

Amy raised her gaze to meet his. She managed a small smile. He tilted his head, examining her. "What's wrong?"

Amy laughed and looked away, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes. "Nothing. Those cookies smell great."

Andrew wiggled his eyebrows. "They're my secret recipe. Want to try?"

He didn't give Amy the chance to reply – he was up and darting around the counter, returning instantly with a tray filled with cookies in the shape of Christmas trees and snowmen. They had red and green frosting, and the snowmen had little buttons down the front.

"How adorable!" Amy said.

"The snowmen are for Serena. She wanted it to snow so badly, and this was the best I could come up with to make her feel better."

Amy smiled, a little more genuinely this time. "You're very sweet." She took a snowman and bit off its head. It tasted like honey and vanilla, and had the perfect amount of chewiness. "Wow, these are amazing!"

Andrew puffed his chest and leaned against the counter. "I know." He poured her a glass of eggnog and slid it over to her. "Now tell ol' Andrew what's bumming you out so much. I've seen you contemplative before, but never sad."

Amy washed down her cookie with the eggnog. She grabbed a serviette, wiped her mouth, and grimaced. "Don't be silly. I've been sad before."

Andrew tipped towards her. "Yeah, but not like this. Where have you been?"

Amy shrugged. "Wandering. Ran into Darien. Wandered some more."

Andrew lifted his eyebrows. "Is this about that boy?"

Amy pressed her lips together. Andrew grinned. "I'm so good at this. What happened?"

Amy rolled her glass between her palms, listening to the gravelly sound of it running back and forth across the counter. "Nothing," she said at last. "That's the problem."

Andrew put a finger against his lips, as though in thought, and nodded. "I see."

"I was a coward," Amy said, still staring at her glass. "I ran away before I even gave him a chance. I mean, he's in a band, and he lives so far away, and we'll probably end up going to different colleges –"

Andrew dismissed her worries with a wave. "You did the right thing," he said.

Amy glanced up, surprised. "I did?"

"Sure. I mean, he's just a guy, right? There are plenty of them around. We're swarming the planet, I tell you."

Amy hesitated. "That's true."

"And yeah, he seemed to really like you. So what? Plenty of guys will like you."

Amy regarded Andrew warily. "I suppose…"

"And it's not like you felt anything amazing. It's not like time seemed to just slip by when you were with him. It's not like you felt silly and giggly and anxious and petrified all at once. It's not like you felt…"

Amy swallowed and lifted her eyes. "The spark," she whispered.

Andrew's expression turned serious now, and he leaned on his arms, right across the counter, until he was almost face-to-face with Amy. "Let me tell you something. Something you're not going to like." Amy drew a breath to brace herself, and he continued. "This kind of stuff doesn't happen often. This 'spark' thing. Sure, there are lots of guys out there. But that connection you felt is so rare. There will always be males that will share your interests, it's just that not all of those males will click with you." He took her hands and gave them a squeeze. "Trust me on this. If you felt that spark, don't let him get away."

Amy's shoulders sagged. "There are just so many obstacles…"

"Amy. If you don't try this, then I promise that you will wake up every morning wondering if you made a mistake. Even if it doesn't work with this guy, at least you can say you tried."

Amy pursed her lips. Andrew squeezed her hands tighter. "Life is not about hiding in the corner."

Amy's eyes wandered behind him, to the place she'd been standing when Scott first entered the arcade. She turned, her attention on the ladder, where she'd fallen, and Scott had caught her. And behind her, at the table, where she and Scott had talked for so long about… everything.

And she realized, even before she'd finished her examination, that every nook and cranny of the place held some memory of Scott. How was she supposed to walk into the arcade every day and not think of him?

She remembered what Darien had said, about the difference between missing someone you know you'd see again, and missing someone who had vanished from your life forever.

Amy released Andrew's hands. "Thank you," she said, backing towards the arcade doors. "Thank you so much."

Andrew smiled and straightened. "No problem. Be back before the party starts!"

"I will!" Amy said, turning and dashing out onto the street.

She ran through the near-empty streets as the sky lit up the pastel colors of sunset, elongating the shadows and causing a slight bite to the wind. Her eyes scanned the streets, searching for that mess of brown hair she had grown accustomed to, even after such a short space of time. He wasn't there.

He wasn't in the library, either. A mother and daughter had won the most-borrowed-book competition, and were wearing flashing Christmas lights around their necks and paper crowns on their heads. Amy barely noticed them. She ducked through the aisles, checking to make sure she hadn't missed him, then sprinted back outside and down the street again.

Darkness had settled now, and street lamps lit up the sidewalks, creating pockets of white between the dark.

Scott was nowhere.

Amy slowed as she reached an intersection. Carolers stood on the corner, singing Carol of the Bells. They were surprisingly rugged up. It was only when Amy stopped walking that she realized it had grown colder. She shivered and wrapped her jacket tighter around herself. Wisps of breath escaped her lips. When had the temperature dropped so suddenly?

Amy stood in the darkness, her heart sinking. Scott may have already been picked up. His cousin was probably driving him uptown right now. She didn't have his number. She didn't have his address. She didn't even have his last name.

Amy inhaled sharply in an effort to keep back a sob. Her hands curled into fists before her eyes, and she rubbed at her tears with the heels of her palms.

The thought of never seeing Scott again thrummed against her heart, constricting her throat and swirling in her stomach. It wasn't rational or probable or practical that she had fallen in love with someone after only a few hours. But Serena had always said that love surpassed logic. Amy moaned. It seemed to surpass sanity, too.

Above her, the final streetlight flickered on. She drew her hands from her eyes and sniffled, turning to begin the tedious journey home.

And then…

"Amy?"

Amy pivoted on her heel, her body instinctively reacting to that voice between the carolers.

It was him. He was there, only steps away, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the chill, his face in an expression of utter astonishment. He moved into the light of the street lamp, studying her. "What are you doing here?"

Amy's mouth opened and closed several times before she was able to make sounds. "I – er – I was… I was looking for you. I thought… I thought you'd already gone." She glanced over her shoulder. "Where are you heading?"

"I'm just… wandering." Scott averted his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't seem to want to look at her.

Amy lowered her gaze. "Oh."

"I wanted to see you again, but… it didn't really seem like you wanted to talk."

He kept his eyes firmly on the ground.

Amy realized she was holding her breath, and released it as a puff of steam. "Well… here's the thing," she said. "I don't want you to go."

Scott glanced up at her. "What?"

It was Amy's turn to look away, to avoid eye contact. "It's stupid and insane and irrational, but I can't bear the thought of being apart from you. I missed you, even for that small amount of time we were apart just now. I don't want you to go."

Silence. Amy couldn't bring herself to check his reaction. Behind them, the carolers finished their song and started Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

"Um, Amy?" Scott said at last. "I hate to tell you this, but –"

Amy flinched, waiting for the blow.

"– I'm not going anywhere."

Amy gasped and looked up. Scott gave her a bashful shrug. "My cousin's already come to pick me up. I sent him to the pub." His brow creased thoughtfully. "It's funny, but there's not a single part of me that wants to go to my gig tonight. Not if it means I don't get to spend Christmas Eve with you." He stepped to her and traced his fingers down her arm. "It's like I'm addicted to your presence."

Amy didn't move as his fingers found hers, lacing them together. Heat rose in her face, until she barely felt the chill of the rapidly decreasing temperature.

She swallowed, trying to arrange her thoughts into a coherent sentence. "It's just… we're going to have to try so hard to make this work –"

"I've learnt that the best things always take a bit of effort."

Amy stared directly into his lovely brown eyes. "It's going to take a miracle," she whispered, her voice almost pleading.

Something small and white drifted between them.

"A miracle?" Scott said, not noticing it. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we have a lot of hurdles, if we want to keep seeing each other," Amy said. Two more white things floated on the breeze before her. She drew a breath. "Like the fact that you're so far away. And the fact that we'll most likely go to different colleges. And the fact that – hey, what is that?" Amy blinked, trying to focus her vision to see the sprinkling of white flakes that now drifted between her and Scott. She looked up, into the glare of the street lamp. The flakes were spiraling from the sky. "Is that…?"

"It couldn't be," Scott said, his neck craned to see what she was seeing. "They never said anything about…"

"But it is…" Amy drew one hand away from Scott's and held it out, watching a snowflake settle on her palm. She laughed. "It's snowing!"

Scott stared at her for a moment, then a grin stretched across his face. "Kind of like… a miracle?"

Amy blinked and glanced up at him. "Yes," she said slowly. "I suppose it is."

And although it was ludicrous, although it was scientifically impossible, Amy couldn't help wondering, for a fleeting moment, where that box of marbles had ended up.

_Practicality doesn't interest me.  
Love the life that I lead.  
I've got a pocketful of miracles,  
And with a pocketful of miracles,  
One little miracle a day is all I need._


	12. Chapter 12

A Pocketful of Miracles

By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

Chapter Twelve

Raye swiped at her forehead as she stood. Her bangs parted beneath her fingertips, showing the small sheen of sweat beneath. The air conditioning was on full blast and it pounded against her face. She stood in its stream for a moment and let the air cool her to a much more reasonable temperature. Her hands fell to her hips. She looked over her progress as her hair danced in the artificial wind.

She had catalogued their Christmas inventory and placed it into the appropriate boxes. Next, the plan was to set out the boxes of after Christmas merchandise so that half of her job could be done and she wouldn't have to come in insanely early.

Her amber eyes scanned the labels on the boxes already on the shelves. Little hearts, candy canes (Chad had already made out the Christmas labels and she wasn't about to take the time to change them), four-leaf clovers, and easter eggs greeted her. She continued up the tall shelves and found a box labeled _Dec-Jan_. She groaned, her hand covering her eyes.

It was up two shelves taller than she was. I really wish Chad—, she bit her lip to stop herself from thinking. It was true Chad was easily tall enough to reach the box she needed and that this whole process would have been much faster with his help. Normally she didn't even break a sweat replacing inventory, but she hadn't had someone to share the workload with. Not to mention a man who liked to show her his strength and would gladly lift any box to any shelf. A small smile etched onto her face.

And then she thought of Serena and Chad in the mall. She was still fiercely jealous, but a few more hectic hours at work had led her to another realization. She wanted to be Serena.

Well, not the part where she was hopelessly in love with a guy who teased her constantly. Raye was happy not to be in that role. But she wanted to stand next to Chad the way her friend did. She wanted to laugh with him. Wanted to hold hands. Wanted to hear those goofy jokes he made not because he was a good joke teller—he was really, really bad actually—but because he was trying to make _her_ laugh.

Raye sighed. "None of this is helping me get this box on that shelf." And once again she had to mentally yell at herself to focus. How many times had she zoned out today? How many times had she found herself missing Chad?

"Focus," she hissed. She stepped carefully over the sea of boxes on the floor. She was horrible at organizing them one at a time. Chad had always done it that way. One box full, one box on the shelf. Making her way to the step ladder in the corner, she could see why. These many boxes wouldn't pose much of a problem for his long legs, but for her they were nearly leaps to step over them. He had kept it neat and organized for her benefit. Her heart swelled.

She gripped the cold metal of the step ladder and headed back. The steps slammed into her back as she maneuvered her way back to where she wanted to be.

Right now, Chad would have taken the step ladder away and told her that his muscles were burning for some serious exercise. He would have pumped his fists or flexed his arms or gone full muscle model and pulled off his shirt. If he was really going for it, he'd pull his long hair into a ponytail. Raye would have to swallow her heart and she would be glad he didn't always wear it like that. Then he'd grab the boxes from her one-by-one and line the shelves. He would see when she was getting bored or tired or sad and he would make some stupid joke. A Mina-type joke where the whole thing is backwards. Something like "Why did the road cross the quail?" or "What do you call a lift with no eyes?" And she would try not to smile and he would guffaw like the crazy man he was.

Raye stepped uncertainly on the first stair. Her hands were too full with the box to wipe away the tears dripping down her cheeks.

…

Chad wrapped his arms around himself to keep out the encroaching chill. The lights along the walkway were starting to blink on as the afternoon fell into evening. He lamented the long summer evenings before everything fell in to darkness. It wasn't quite pitch black yet, but the sun was sending its last rays over the horizon. He went across the crosswalk and stepped onto the footbridge that ran above the downtown boulevard.

The Christmas lights dazzled him as he stood in the middle of the bridge drinking them in. Each lamp post had a glowing poinsettia just underneath its lantern. He pressed his elbows into the railing, leaning over to take in the long line of lights. The storefronts had laced lights of all colors and types, some blinking and some not, around their columns and doors. Green garlands twisted and red bows bloomed against the stone faces and white columns. Windows held small candle lights that winked through the frosted panes.

He closed his eyes and imagined it all encrusted in snow. His lips fell into a smile easily.

Something cold touched his hand. He refused to open his eyes, happy to envision the world wrapped in white just a little longer. A group of carolers stood at a street corner and he could hear the joyous music of the season.

Another bite of cold licked his arm. Then his other one was chilled. Finally, his nose was divebombed by something between solid and liquid. He jerked back in surprise, his eyes flying open. His jaw hit the ground.

Falling into the long street were perfectly formed snowflakes. Not rain, not sleet, but _snow_. He stared at them in disbelief. He put out his hands, collecting the melting flakes in his palms.

"No way. Serena's dream came true." And he laughed. Then he hoorahed and whooped and danced a little on the small footbridge. The other walkers paid him no mind for they had stopped, too, to watch as a thin blanket of white covered the city.

If it happened for Serena, maybe there's still hope for me, he thought. He felt warm with confidence and love.

He leaned over the railing, taking in the sight of the shops and the street and the snow falling over everything. He leaned farther, looking as far into the city as he possibly could. He was up on his toes, bent almost double over the railing, but he didn't care how precarious his position was. He drank in the reality as the street transformed into the picturesque winter wonderland he had imagined it could be.

…

Raye rubbed the blisters forming on her hands. Her feet ached as they clomped onto the cold pavement. Her cheeks burned where the moisture of her tears had collected. She dabbed at the last vestiges of wetness.

The chill of the night bit through her sweater. It had felt refreshing for the first few minutes, but as she made her way home it was beginning to freeze on her bones. She hefted up the big jacket in her arms. Chad had left it in his haste.

She sighed, thumbing at one of the patches. It was an old leather bomber jacket that had seen fewer good days than bad. He had been wearing it when Grandpa had found him and was rarely without it even in the summer. There were memories in it somewhere, of a life Raye never knew, and Chad kept them close to his heart for some reason.

She pressed her face into its folds. The leather bit at her cheek and neck. But it smelled musty and worn and like _him_. She breathed it in deep and she could hear his laugh, see the sparkling green eyes that were normally hidden beneath a fringe of dark brown hair, and feel his thick hands and gentle fingers as they pressed into her arms. She imagined what it would feel like being wrapped up by him and wasn't surprised at all when her heart ached for him.

She was such a fool.

She sniffled away the bite of tears. She was so tired of crying over him. It wasn't like she wasn't going to ever see him again. They lived with each other, for pete's sake. She would go home, order him out into the cold, and feel better. She was just suffering from a case of loneliness. It wasn't what she wasn't willing to say. She hardly could say she liked him, let alone the big L-word that had been looming in her mind all afternoon.

She shook her head, waiting on the crossing signal. There was no L-word involved. She straightened her spine, pushing the jacket down to a casual level. Raye was a strong, independent woman. She didn't have time or need for _that_ feeling. But even as she denied it her heart twisted and turned as if fed poison. She felt its ache and swallowed it down. She was stronger than the need for this L-word.

Exuding confidence and solitary beauty, she stepped across the street and onto the footbridge. Two more blocks and she'd be home. Then she would get ready for Andrew's party—better late than never—and get on with her life. Life… that was the only L-word she needed.

But as took a few steps onto the bridge, those thoughts left her. There was Chad in the middle of the bridge. The people around him had stopped as though frozen in time. She watched him lean forward on the tip of his toes. He didn't even have a grip on the railing. And then a thought shocked her to the core and made her heart scream in agony.

He was going to jump.

And her pride didn't matter anymore. Her heart flew from its cage, unleashed in a desperate fury it bubbled through her limbs and sent her running at him. Her hands clawed forward, hoping to grasp some part of him either to save him from the fall or to fall with him into oblivion. Her escaped heart widened its wingspan and filled her vocal cords and mouth with a terrified scream.

"Chad!"

She gripped his elbow and flung him around. He came unbalanced and they floundered against the railing. For a moment she really thought they were going to fall over together and it scared her how easily she accepted a fate tied to him. But he caught his balance and she fell against him and the thought of dying together flew away on the falling snowflakes.

She could feel where the skin had broken underneath her nails. She had to really think about loosening her grip on his elbow before her fingers obeyed. Slowly, the adrenaline from her heart receded and her rational side came back to the helm. She started to feel the world around her again. The thin fabric of his T-shirt against her cheek, her legs entwined with his, and the ache of the muscles in her hands. Her feet remembered the long day she had spent on them. She began to breathe again.

Chad's arms came around her gently. She felt his goatee settle onto the crown of her head. She gulped. He knew. He knew what she could not have admitted to herself.

"This changes nothing between us," she hiccupped. Just when had she started crying _again_?

"Are you saying that it's always been there?" She could hear his smile. His arms squeezed her lightly. It was only then that she noticed how gently he held her. He was giving her an escape. She could easily step out of his embrace now and prove that there really wasn't anything between them. But her pesky heart kept her feet rooted.

"I don't like you at all."

He chuckled and it rippled through his chest into her ear. She was amazed at the power of it. The sound left her completely at ease. She didn't have a care in the world while she was in his arms. Maybe she had been too quick to scoff at all those romance novels.

"Liar."

She didn't say no. She couldn't deny her feelings when he was running his fingers through her hair.

"Maybe a little."

He tilted her head back and she looked up into his bright green eyes. He wiped away the traces of her tears. He leaned down and touched their noses.

"Just a little?"

She pressed her lips together, refusing to admit anything. He pulled away from her and laughed. It was hearty and shook her a little but she felt the mirth seep into her. For once, she let the smile break through. She had always loved how easily he laughed.

Uh-oh. There was that L-word.

He nuzzled away her worried expression. "Say it."

"No." She turned away from him, but didn't push against him to separate them.

He kissed her cheek, soft and gentle, and her heart filled her so much that she couldn't feel her aching toes, or the biting cold, or the small snowflakes that were collecting on them.

"Come on." His voice was quiet. Intimate. She should have felt embarrassed but it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He stepped away from her and bent to grab his leather jacket. He looped it over his arm and brought his other arm to drape over her shoulders. She was happy for the contact. She snuggled into his side even though she wasn't cold at all. He steered them toward home. "You've got a party to get to."

She pressed her face into his side, feeling nervous and childish and all-together not at all like herself. She mumbled something and he had to lean down to hear it. He didn't catch it the first time.

"Come with me?"

He hugged her close as they turned down the block. His mouth pressed into the curve of her ear. The sweep of his breath sent shivers through her soul. "Like a date?"

She burrowed deeper and he smiled. He kissed her ear. _Exactly_ like a date.

_Life's a carousel, far as I can tell,  
And I'm riding for free.  
So if you're down and out of miracles,  
I've got a pocketful of miracles  
And there'll be miracles enough for you and me._


	13. Chapter 13

A Pocketful of Miracles

By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

Chapter Thirteen

"I feel like I should offer you my jacket."

Darien struggled to pull his eyes away from the swirling, blistering snowfall that surrounded them and looked down at Serena still sprawled out on the sidewalk. She was trying not to smirk as she stared at his lightweight shirt and arms covered in goosebumps.

Clearing his throat, he rubbed at his exposed skin. "I left my jacket at the arcade. I didn't think—it wasn't that cold when I left." He looked at her puffy coat and thick scarf. "But no, you definitely still need it more than I do.

The smirk won. "I wasn't actually offering it to you, goofball. After you mocked me for my attire this morning? Please."

He couldn't keep his lips from twitching as he stood up and offered her his hand. Her gloved fingers slipped into his without hesitation and he lifted her from the pavement, where he stood dumbly watching her dust herself off and smooth down her hair. Snowflakes were gathering in the meatballs and dusting her shoulders and in the haze of the mall's pale lights she looked rather . . . angelic.

"What?"

He snapped from his thoughts. "Oh. Um. You dropped your stuff." He shuffled toward the scattered shopping bags and gathered them up. The sprig of mistletoe had tumbled out onto the pavement and left a little silhouette in the powdered snow when Darien picked it up and shook it off.

"My ice cream!" Serena said, standing over the cone, arms akimbo. She harrumphed. "I guess it's too cold for it now anyway."

"Andrew will have lots of sweets," Darien said half-heartedly, his thoughts back in the florists, seeing Serena's dreamy face as she clutched this branch of mistletoe to her chest.

Fearing for his sanity, he shoved the mistletoe into the bag. Serena was watching him with a concerned frown, but she quickly dropped her gaze as she took her shopping bags away from him. He shoved his icy hands into his pockets.

"We're running late," Serena said, making a show of arranging the bag handles just so—and not making eye contact with him. "Andrew will be wondering where we are."

Darien couldn't stop watching her, couldn't avoid trying to dissect her every look, every word, the way she fiddled with her purse, the way she swayed uncomfortably from foot to foot. Her giddiness was gone. The radiant joy of a white Christmas, disappeared.

He had always imagined her as all-bubbly, all the time. Had he just missed these momentary bouts of discomfort and sadness, or was this something new? And if the latter, what had caused it?

"You should go ahead to the party," he said, gesturing back to the mall doors. "I came to get a last-minute gift."

"But the mall is closed. Or, closing soon, anyway."

Turning, he peered through the glass doors just as a row of shopkeepers pulled the metal grates over their storefronts. "You've got to be kidding me."

"It closes early for the holiday," she said, then added with a teasing smirk, "I thought you never procrastinated."

He shivered as another burst of cold air crept up his spine, ignoring the taunting voice. The snow was deepening quickly. It was already over half an inch, and showing no sign of stopping. He looked apologetically at Serena, his shoulders drooping. "All right, I might as well tell you. The gift was for you."

He saw her eyes widen. Surprise, for sure. Hope? He couldn't tell.

"Andrew didn't have time to finish his shopping. He got gifts for all the girls but you and he asked me to come get you something . . . and I failed. And I'm sorry. It isn't Andrew's fault. Well, it _is_ because he shouldn't have put off his shopping for so long, but still. I'm really sorry."

"Oh," she said, and if there had been hope, it had flickered out. "That's okay. I don't mind." A half-smile as her eyes grazed over the snowdrifts. "I got what I wanted."

All she'd wanted was snow for Christmas.

_All_ she'd wanted was snow.

But that was a lie, according to Mina and Lita. There was still something he could give her.

He gulped and pulled his hands, suddenly warm, from his pockets.

"Right, I know, but I still feel bad about it."

"Don't," she said. With a cursory glance up at the sky, she started walking toward the bus stop. Darien had no choice but to follow, stepping gingerly over the shards of a used-up miracle. "Did you, um, decide what to get for . . . that girl?"

"Hm?" He'd still been mulling over Mina's words, wondering if there was any chance he'd mistaken her meaning. Or if she'd incorrectly assessed Serena's feelings.

"The girl you were buying the flowers for? Did you end up going with roses or . . . I'm just curious."

He looked at her profile, sad again, and then down at the little florist bag with the mistletoe hidden inside.

"Oh—that was for you. I'd meant you."

Her brow furrowed. She looked at him suspiciously from the corner of her eye. "Me?"

"Yeah, I was just trying to figure out what to get you. I mean, for Andrew, of course."

Her gaze dropped. The wind whipped at her scarf and pigtails, tangling them around her petite body as they walked. He could see her mulling the words over his head, piecing the clues together, before realization dawned.

"So . . . there's no . . . other girl?"

Darien's feet came to a slow, unsteady stop. She paused a few feet ahead and turned back, her gaze an uncanny mixture of panic and, there it was again, that peculiar glistening hope.

No. Other. Girl.

_That's_ why she'd looked so upset at the florist. _That's_ why she'd gotten sad when he'd picked up the mistletoe. That's what was bothering her so much. The thought that he, Darien, was interested in another girl.

But if that could upset her so much, then there was only one possible conclusion. Mina was right. Serena had a crush on _him._

"Darien?"

"No," he said, more forcefully than he'd meant to. "There's no other girl."

She jumped at his vehemence. Her mouth formed a little O, then she ducked her head, hiding whatever expression crept up as if she knew just how easy it was to read her expressions, now that he was on the lookout for them.

When she lifted her head a second later, there was only smug indifference there, coupled with a shrug. "Not that it's any of my business," she said. "I mean, what do I care, right? I just . . . just the way you'd been talking about it, I'd assumed. . . . But I don't really _care._" She sniffed loudly as evidence of her supreme not-caring.

But Darien knew better, and he was having a much more difficult time playing nonchalance than she was. A smile was brimming, climbing slowly from his chest, up his throat, and warming up his entire face. He could not have been sure where the smile was coming from, or what exactly was causing it, but there it was.

Happiness. And all because silly, klutzy Meatball Head liked him.

Serena turned away from him before she could notice the abnormal expression, still chattering about how little difference it made to her if Darien had a _million _girlfriends, how it meant nothing to her, in fact, she wasn't even _curious_ and honestly didn't know why he'd thought she would want to know in the first place, obviously she was only asking to be _nice,_ not because—

Her galoshes slipped on a patch of ice.

Serena screamed. Bags flew. Arms windmilled. Darien barely caught her as she fell back into his arms sending them both sprawling on the pavement.

Amidst the shock of surprise at being on the ground—again—with Serena on top of him—again—and his back side throbbing with pain—again, Darien started laughing.

"Honestly, Meatball Head, three klutz-attacks in one day?"

"Oh, shut up!" she said. But then she started laughing too as she struggled to sit up, struggling to untwine herself from scarf and locks of hair and finding it near impossible to gain purchase on the slick concrete. She managed to roll off him and they lay in the snow—now over an inch thick—unheeding the harried shoppers that jostled around them.

With one arm still caught beneath Serena's shoulders, Darien suddenly stopped laughing. His silence prompted Serena's silence and she swiveled her face toward him, but he was staring up at the snowing sky, the clouds pale pink from the city lights.

"Mistletoe," he said.

He did not see Serena's expression, but a moment later he felt her small mittened hands beneath his head. "Now who's hallucinating?" she said. She tried to lift him to seated, but he grabbed her other wrist.

"No, look."

She turned her face upward and spotted the little sprig of mistletoe, its gold ribbon caught on the branch of a leafless maple tree.

"Oh. Right. Mistletoe."

"Good shot," murmured Darien, loosening his grip on her wrist. She did not pull her hand away from the back of his head and he could feel her beginning to tremble.

He looked at her, propped up on one elbow, lingering over him. She slowly returned his gaze, licking her lips. Wide-eyed. Pink-cheeked.

Inhaling a quick breath, he sat up and shook the snowflakes from his hair. "We're going to miss the bus."

She jerked away from him. A second later they were both on their feet, bags gathered up, meandering toward the bus stop.

A second passed that, they saw their bus pull away from the curb and zoom off down the street.

"We're going to be really late," Darien said, sans emotion. "Andrew's not going to be happy with us."

"Guess we should start walking," said Serena, equally unconcerned.

So they started walking, leaving a safe distance between them as they made their way through the familiar streets toward the arcade. He could tell Serena was walking carefully, even in her haste. He could sense embarrassment and disappointment steaming off of her.

He could tell that the falling snow was not the ultimate miracle she'd been hoping for.

"Mistletoe is such a weird tradition," he said after too long of being engulfed in blizzarding awkwardness.

"Very weird," she was quick to agree. "And dumb. I mean, forcing people to . . . yeah. Weird."

"It seems like a tradition that could cause a lot of trouble, right? It's kind of like . . . like valentines."

She stiffened on the other side of the sidewalk. "What's wrong with valentines?"

"Well, nothing's _wrong_ with them, but . . . well, did you ever get a valentine from someone that you liked and you didn't know if it meant that they liked you back, or if they were just giving it to you because they felt _obligated _to? It's the same sort of thing with mistletoe. Even if . . . if you like somebody and you catch them under the mistletoe and get to k-kiss them, then sure you'd be happy about it and all, but afterwards you would always wonder. Did they kiss you because they wanted to, or because they _had_ to?"

This time, it took Serena a while to respond with a subtle, "I guess you're right. How would you know?"

"The uncertainty could drive a person crazy."

Serena held out a hand and watched her mitten gather snowflakes. "Still," she said, eyelashes drooping, "a kiss would be nice."

"Not if you got caught under the mistletoe with someone you didn't like at all. And had to kiss them. That would be terrible, right?"

Serena pursed her lips and didn't answer.

"What happened back there was a perfect example. I mean, if you and I really cared about the tradition, I would have had to kiss you. Or . . . you, me. But—we hate each other. So that would have been awkward. Right?"

"Awkward," she whispered. "Because you hate me."

"No, because you hate me."

She dropped her hand, and all lingering happiness seemed to melt away as she trudged through the snow. He watched cautiously as she sighed a heavy, heartbreaking sigh that dissipated in white steam before her.

He waited for the sigh to fade away before reaching for her hand. They stopped walking. She angled toward him, her face miserable beneath his penetrating gaze.

"But you don't hate me, do you?" he said, still, despite all the evidence to the contrary, unsure just what her response would be.

She rubbed snow from her bangs with her free hand and slowly shook her head.

He inched closer to her, pulse thrumming, his entire body overheated despite the cold. "I don't hate you either."

Her lips quirked, but it was a sad, sarcastic quirk. "I know that, Darien."

He froze. "You do?"

"Of course. You may be a jerk sometimes, but you don't hate people for no good reason."

Darien was rendered momentarily speechless as he mulled this insight over. He had not exactly known that about himself.

"But you're right," she continued. "Kisses are probably too important to be doled out willy-nilly because of—" Another frosty sigh. "—some dumb tradition."

"Exactly," he said, shaking himself from his stupor. "That's exactly what I meant."

She nodded, appearing both glad and yet supremely unhappy that they'd reached this agreement.

"And I would really hate for you to misunderstand this."

He dared not risk her lips. Instead, with fumbling fingers on her waist, he dipped his head and placed a kiss at the corner of her mouth. She tensed, with the whole world still between them save their hands interlocked and his fingers on her side and his lips hovering, tentative, beside her cheek.

As the significance of what he'd just done settled around him, Darien slowly drew back, anxious to know her reaction.

Shock was evident, and expected. Wide, unblinking eyes and captured breath, proof that he really had just kissed her, surprising them both.

"I-I think I misunderstand," she stammered.

"No, you don't." He tried to smile, but it was too difficult with nerves sizzling inside him.

"You—" She paused with puckered lips, blinked three times, and slowly allowed the crease between her eyebrows to soften. "And me?"

"Crazy, I know. But. But yes." He gulped. "Um. Merry Christmas?"

Her lips curved, still baffled. She squirmed closer to him, tucking her head beneath his chin, accepting his arms around her, gigantic coat and all. "Your lips were cold," she said, watching from the circle of his arms as the impossible snow whitewashed the city.

"Sorry."

Sparkling eyes turned up, meeting his gaze. "Merry Christmas," she whispered and stood on her tiptoes.

The second kiss left no room for uncertainty.

_Life's a carousel, far as I can tell,  
And I'm riding for free.  
I've got a pocketful of miracles.  
But if I had to pick a miracle,  
My favorite miracle of all is you and me._

* * *

Epilogue to follow.

xoxo


	14. Chapter 14

A Pocketful of Miracles

By Lillie Bell, Alicia Blade, and Kaitlyn Fall

Chapter Fourteen

Andrew, Mina, and Lita stood behind the arcade's glass doors, watching the snow. The buildings across the way were hardly visible through the flakes. Drifts were piling up fast along the sidewalk, six inches deep at least.

Chewing on her thumbnail, Mina said, "So, where did Amy go again?"

"I think she went to look for that boy," said Andrew. "But that was over an hour ago."

Lita stretched her arms up then interlaced her fingers behind her head. "Maybe he kidnapped her. Maybe he's secretly part of some crazy cult that preys on brilliant but awkwardly shy girls, and right now he's taking her back to his dark lair for experimental brainwashing."

Mina and Andrew cast wary glances at Lita, who only shrugged.

Sighing, Andrew turned back to Mina. "And Raye was . . . ?"

"Working. And then she was going to go home and change, but even so, she should have been here by now."

"Maybe," said Lita, "there was a huge stampede at the mall for the last box of Zhu Zhu hamster toys and Raye got trampled and rushed to the hospital and she's taking her last breaths as we speak."

Mina felt a twitch developing at the corner of her eye. Ignoring Lita, she said, "And Serena was going to do some last-minute Christmas shopping, but I would have expected her here hours ago, too."

"And I think Darien was going back to the mall for her present," said Andrew.

Lita rocked back on her heels. "Maybe they met up at the mall and got caught in the snowstorm and right now their hiding out in some snowy trench and if it keeps blizzarding like this Serena's going to get really hungry and have to eat Darien to survive." When Andrew and Mina gave her incredulous looks, she said, "What? It could happen."

The door swung open, letting in a burst of cold wind and a flurry of snow. Amy and the boy rushed inside, both shivering.

Dusting snow from her hair, Amy beamed at the three friends standing before her. "I'm so sorry we're late," she said, not sounding sorry at all as she threaded her arm through the boy's. "Everyone, this is Scott. Scott, meet Lita, Mina, and Andrew."

They stared. They shook hands. Mina and Lita traded impressed glances. Before finally Lita noticed the guitar-shaped box slung over Scott's back. "Is that a guitar?" she asked.

"It is," he said, pushing his damp hair back from his face. "Amy said all you had was a horrible Christmas CD, so I thought this might be a welcome alternative. If that's all right?"

"That sounds _wonderful,_" said Lita.

"Do you know any love songs?" gushed Mina, clasping her hands over her heart.

Scott scratched behind his ear. "Uh . . . yeah, a couple."

Mina and Lita sighed in unison.

Smiling nervously, Scott flexed his free hand. "Maybe after feeling returns to my fingers."

"For that, I think we could use a hot cup of cider," said Amy, deftly steering Scott between Lita and Andrew and heading toward the refreshments. "Oh, and Mina?" she said over her shoulder. "Nice earrings."

Watching them go, Mina reached up and fiddled with her heart-shaped matchmaking earrings. "Ha! They work every time."

"When have they ever worked before?" asked Lita.

Mina glared at Lita, that twitch returning, but before she could retort, the door breezed open again. Raye and Chad poured through, clinging to each other and laughing hysterically.

"Oh my goodness!" said Raye, her face cherry red as she gestured back to the snowfall. "Can you believe this?"

Three pairs of eyes locked on Raye and Chad's interlaced fingers.

"No," answered Lita. "No I cannot."

"Are you guys on a _date_?" asked Mina.

"You could say that," said Raye, smiling to herself as Chad helped her out of her jacket. "And if I hear a single 'I told you so,' someone is getting a candy cane down their throat."

Chad and Andrew laughed. The girls did not, knowing it wasn't meant to be funny.

"Chad, have you met Andrew?" Raye introduced them, then frowned as her eyes spotted the refreshments near the back. "Who's that?"

"That's Scott," said Mina. "His car broke down. He plays the guitar. And he seems to be Amy's soul mate."

Raye's eyebrows shot up. "Is that so? Well. That would explain the earrings. Come on, Chad, let's go put these presents under the tree."

Mouths agape, Mina, Lita, and Andrew watched them walk hand-in-hand to the tinseled Christmas tree.

"That was . . . unexpected," said Lita.

Mina shrugged. "I've known Raye was hiding her true feelings for ages. Just between us, I totally told her so."

"They make a cute couple," said Andrew, although his brow was crinkled with confusion. "But what do you suppose happened to those miracles?"

"Those what?" asked Lita.

"You remember, the little red box that tried to kill Ra—"

He was interrupted by a loud whistle of wind and a chill filling the arcade. The three of them turned to see Darien and Serena stomping snow from their shoes.

"Well, _there_ you two are," said Andrew. "We were beginning to think you were snowed in somewhere."

"A blizzard couldn't keep us from your holiday party, Andrew," said Serena, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck.

"Where's your coat?" said Mina with some alarm, noticing Darien's chattering teeth.

He pointed at a stool by the counter. "Right there." He smiled hopefully at Andrew. "Coffee?"

"There's a pot ready to go," he said. "And there are cookies and cupcakes and chips and dip and—"

"_Cookies!_" squealed Serena and broke through her line of friends on a beeline for the food table.

Chuckling, Darien thrust his hands into his pockets and made to follow her. "Leave some for everyone else, Meatball Head."

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. Andrew quirked his eyebrows. "Were you able to get a gift for her?"

Grin widening, Darien shrugged his friend away. "As a matter of fact, I did." He nodded toward Mina. "Thanks for the suggestion, by the way."

"You mean—"

A coconut macaroon smacked Darien on the back of his head. Spinning around, he saw Serena by the food table, arms crossed. "Just because we're dating now doesn't mean you can call me Meatball Head!"

"Sure it does," he said, laughing as he went to give her a kiss on the cheek—a tactic that would never fail to put him back in her good graces.

Andrew, Mina, and Lita gaped around the arcade. Scott was sitting on the counter, tuning his guitar, while Amy flipped through a songbook. Raye was shaking a small wrapped box by her ear, guessing at its contents, while Chad watched on, beaming. Serena was piling treats onto a paper plate and squealing with frustration because Darien kept steeling truffles and popping them in his mouth.

"Now _that,_" said Lita, "is a really weird coincidence."

Andrew shook his head. "No. _That_ is a miracle."

_I've got a pocketful of miracles.  
But if I had to pick a miracle,  
My favorite miracle of all is you and me._

**END**

Thanks for reading! Check out Lillie Bell's and Alicia Blade's fanfiction pages for more great stories.

Kaitlyn

xoxo


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